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HOLLYWOOD.  CALIF. 


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DAMES  DON'T  CARE 


By  PETER 
CHEYNEY 


COWARD- 


DAMES 

DON'T 
CARE 


McCANN,   INC 
NEW  YORK 


FIRST  AMERICAN  EDITION 


PRINTED   IN   THE   U.   S.   A, 


CONTENTS 


Chapter  I 

PAGE 

SOFT  PEDAL  FOR  SAGERS  3 

Chapter  II 
THE  Low  DOWN  21 

Chapter  III 
HENRIETTA  37 

Chapter  IV 
PORTRAIT  OF  A  "G"  MAN  S3 

Chapter  V 
NEAT  STUFF  69 

Chapter  VI 
WOMAN  STUFF  83 

Chapter  VII 
GOOFY  STUFF  102 

Chapter  VIII  . 

A  FAST  ONE  119 

v 


2224696 


PAGE 

136 

Chapter  X 
MEXICAN  STUFF  154 

Chapter  XI 
PINCH  No.  1  170 

Chapter  XII 
HOOEY  FOR  Two  186 

Chapter  XIII 
DUET  FOR  STIFFS  203 

Chapter  XIV 
SHOW-DOWN  221 


236 


vi 


DAMES  DON'T  CARE 


)NERS 

V/ENUE 

HOLLYWOOD.  CALIF. 
CHAPTER   I 

SOFT   PEDAL   FOR   SAGERS 

Is  it  hot! 

I  ain't  never  been  in  hell,  but  I'm  tellin'  you  that  I 
bet  it  ain't  any  hotter  than  this  Californian  desert  in 

July. 

I  am  drivin'  along  past  Indio  an'  I  figure  that  soon  I 
am  goin'  to  see  the  Palm  Springs  lights.  An'  I  am  goin' 
some — the  speedometer  says  eighty.  If  it  wasn't  so  hot 
it  would  be  a  swell  night;  but  there  ain't  any  air,  an* 
there  was  a  baby  sand  storm  this  afternoon  that  caught 
me  asleep  an*  I  gotta  lump  of  the  Mojave  desert  or 
whatever  they  call  it  stuck  right  at  the  back  of  my 
throat. 

Say,  did  you  ever  hear  of  Cactus  Lizzie?  Well,  there 
is  a  song  about  this  dame  an'  I  am  singing  it.  Not  that 
I  gotta  voice,  because  I  ain't,  but  I  am  one  of  them  guys 
who  always  feels  that  if  Ma  Caution  hadda  fixed  it  so's 
I  was  born  with  some  honest-to-goodness  vocal  cords 
an*  a  face  that  wasn't  like  the  Santo  Domingo  coast 
line,  I  reckon  all  the  lovelies  woulda  lined  up  to  hear 
Lemmy  tear  off  a  couple  of  swing  numbers  that  woulda 
made  croonin'  history. 

Revertin'  to  this  Cactus  "Lizzie.  I  oughta  tell  you 
that  this  dame  was  in  a  song;  an'  for  some  reason  that 
I  don't  know  this  song  is  sorta  buzzin'  in  my  head, 
keepin'  time  with  the  hum  of  the  car.  I  got  this  jingle 
off  some  cowboy  on  Sonora  two  years  ago,  the  time  I 
brought  in  Yelltz  for  murder  an'  kidnappin'.  All  this 

3 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

cowboy  had  was  a  guitar,  smokers'  throat  an'  a  hey-hey 
Mexican  jane  who  took  a  run-out  powder  on  him.  He 
usta  keep  singin'  it  all  the  time  until  the  noise  of  some- 
body readin'  your  death  warrant  woulda  sounded  like  a 
comedy  number — it  woulda  been  such  a  relief.  Well 
.  .  .  here  we  go.  .  .  . 

Livin*  on  the  desert  .  .  .  swing  Cowboy, 

Ridin'  on  the  desert  .  .  .  Love  is  sad  an'  strange.  .  .  . 

Hit  up  that  banjo  .  .  .  sing  Cowboy, 

Your  girl's  got  the  jitters  an'  the  cattle's  got  the  mange. 

Cactus  Lizzie  .  .  .  grieve  Cowboy, 

I  loved  her  plenty  an'  she  give  me  the  air, 

That  Cactus  Lizzie — she  got  me  dizzy, 

Oh  hear  me  grievin' — 'cause  the  dames  don't  care. 

This  is  the  jingle  I  am  singin*,  an'  it's  one  of  them 
rhythms  that  sorta  keep  with  you — you  know,  one  of 
them  things.  .  .  . 

I  am  on  the  straight  run  now  an'  I  can  see  down  the 
road  the  Palm  Springs  lights.  They  tell  me  that  this 
Palm  Springs  is  one  swell  desert  town.  You  can  get  any- 
thin'  there — a  diamond  necklace  from  a  ritzy  jeweller's 
shop,  perfume  at  fifty  dollars  a  bottle,  an'  a  smack  in  the 
puss  with  a  whisky  bottle  at  some  of  the  road  houses  they 
got  out  on  the  desert  highways — the  sorta  places  where 
you  can  save  time  by  losin'  your  reputation  an'  your  sus- 
penders at  the  same  time. 

I  am  just  runnin'  into  town  now,  an'  I'm  good  an' 
tired.  I  was  tellin'  you  about  Cactus  Lizzie,  wasn't  I? 
Well,  I  reckon  that  there's  a  lotta  dames  playin'  around 
like  Cactus  Lizzie.  They're  afraid  of  spiders  but  they'd 
just  as  soon  stick  a  stiletto  into  their  boy  friend  as  call 

4 


SOFT      PEDAL      FOR      SAGERS 

for  a  chocolate  sundae.  Janes  are  like  that,  but  maybe 
you've  had  your  own  troubles. 

Me,  I  like  women.  There's  something  f  ascinatin'  about 
'em.  They  got  rhythm.  They  got  technique — and  how! 

I  am  nearly  through  Palm  Springs  now.  A  bit  further 
ahead  on  the  right  I  can  see  a  light  an'  a  neon  sign.  The 
sign  says  'Hot  Dogs,'  an'  I  decide  that  this  is  the  place  I 
am  lookin'  for.  I  slow  down.  When  I  get  outa  the  car  I 
feel  as  stiff  as  a  corpse,  an'  why  not?  I  have  been  drivin' 
ten  hours. 

I  ease  over  to  this  joint  an'  look  through  the  window. 
It  is  one  of  them  fancy  eats  houses.  Everything  is  just 
sweet  an'  clean  an'  there  are  a  pair  of  janes  servin'  behind 
the  counter.  They  are  swell  babies.  One  of  'em  is  a  red- 
head with  eyes  that  indicate  trouble  for  somebody,  some 
time,  an'  the  other  has  gotta  figure  that  makes  me  wish  I 
was  on  vacation.  There  are  one  or  two  little  tables  stuck 
around  all  about  the  place  an'  there  ain't  anybody  there 
except  the  girls  an'  a  guy  sittin'  at  a  table  eatin'  frank- 
furters an'  tryin'  to  look  wicked  at  the  blonde  with  the 
figure. 

I  look  at  my  watch.  It  is  half  past  midnight;  then  I 
give  the  brim  of  my  fedora  a  snappy  tweak  an'  I  go  in. 

"H'yah,  Gorgeous,"  I  say  to  the  redhead.  "Meetin'  up 
with  you  calls  for  a  Hamburger  an'  a  cup  of  coffee  with  a 
lotta  cream,  because  my  mother  says  I  need  buildin'  up." 

She  grins  at  the  other  dame. 

"Say,  Alice,"  she  cracks.   "Here's  Clark  Gable." 

She  gets  busy  at  the  coffee  urn. 

"Not  for  me,"  says  the  blonde.  "For  me  he's  Spencer 
Tracy.  He's  got  that  certain  something  they  talk  about, 
ain't  he?  Where's  he  been  all  our  lives?" 

"No  fightin'  now,"  I  tell  'em.  "If  either  of  you 

5 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

honeys  wasn't  here  I  could  go  for  the  other  in  a  big 
way,  but  you're  a  sweet  pair  an'  you  sorta  cancel  each 
other  out — an'  don't  forget  the  mustard  an'  no  onion." 

"Seein'  somebody?"  says  redhead. 

"Not  a  hope,"  I  say.  "I  just  never  eat  onion.  It's 
dangerous.  You  never  know  what's  goin'  to  happen. 
I  once  knew  a  guy  who  ate  Hamburgers  -with  onion  an' 
one  hour  afterwards  some  Jane  he  was  tryin'  to  make 
called  up  the  War  Department  for  a  gas  mask." 

She  pushes  over  the  eats. 

"You're  new  around  here,  ain't  you?"  she  says. 

She  looks  sorta  friendly. 

"Yeah,"  I  tell  her.  "I  come  from  Magdalena,  Mexico. 
I'm  lookin'  for  a  friend  of  mine,  a  guy  named  Sagers 
— Jeremy  Sagers.  Some  guy  in  Arispe  has  left  him  some 
dough  an'  I  thought  he'd  like  to  know  about  it.  Ever 
seen  him?" 

"Ain't  that  a  scream,"  says  redhead.  "I  reckon  we 
know  this  Sagers.  I  see  him  talkin'  to  Hot  Dog  Annie, 
an'  I  reckon  the  old  girl  pushed  him  into  one  of  them 
dumps  she  gets  around  to — one  of  them  select  desert 
road  houses  around  here." 

"You  got  them,  too?"  I  crack.  "Say,  this  town  is  the 
berries." 

"You  betcha,"  she  says.  "We  got  everything  around 
here.  Now  we  got  you,  we're  all  set  for  a  big  ride!" 

"Nuts  to  you,  sweetheart,"  I  crack,  "Say,  who  is  this 
Hot  Dog  Annie?" 

"She's  an  old  peach,"  says  blondie.  "She  starts 
drinkin'  double  Martinis  about  six  an'  by  midnight 
she's  good  an'  high.  Then  she  comes  in  here  an'  takes 
in  a  cargo  of  hot  dogs.  She  says  it  sorta  absorbs  the 
poison  an'  stops  her  from  seein'  handsome  cowboys 

6 


SOFT       PEDAL       FOR       SAGERS 

where  there  ain't  any.  That's  how  she  got  the  mon- 
niker."  She  pipes  down.  "Hold  everything,  here  she 
is,"  she  mutters. 

I  screw  around. 

Some  dame  has  just  blown  in  an'  she  is  certainly  an 
eyeful.  She  is  wearin'  a  sorta  juniper  an'  a  pair  of  blue 
hikin'  shorts.  She  has  gotta  pair  of  sand  shoes  on,  an* 
a  jag  that  woulda  lasted  any  ordinary  guy  for  about 
three  years.  But  in  some  funny  way  she  has  got  class 
...  if  you  know  what  I  mean. 

She  goes  over  to  a  table  an'  flops  down.  Behind  the 
counter  the  girls  are  busy.  They  have  gotta  plate  of 
hot  dogs  an'  a  large  cup  of  coffee  all  ready,  an'  I  pick 
it  up  an'  take  it  over  an'  put  it  on  the  table  in  front  of 
this  dame. 

She  takes  a  look  at  me. 

"An*  who  might  you  be?"  she  says. 

"Me  .  .  .  I'm  a  guy  who  believes  in  fairies,"  I  say. 
"Listen,  lady,"  I  go  on  before  she  can  pull  anythin'. 
"Maybe  you  can  help  me.  The  girls  here  tell  me  that 
you  gotta  job  for  some  guy  I'm  lookin'  for — a  guy 
called  Jeremy  Sagers.  I  got  some  good  news  for  this 
guy — some  palooka's  left  him  some  dough." 

She  goes  into  a  huddle  with  a  hot  dog. 

"I  got  him  hired  at  the  Miranda  House,"  she 
says,  "but  he  was  so  lousy  they  gave  him  the  air.  Then 
he  fixed  himself  up.  He's  workin'  at  a  dump  way  out 
on  the  desert — the  Hacienda  Altmira — an*  as  far  as  I'm 
concerned  he  can  have  it." 

She  starts  cryin'.  This  dame  is  plumb  full  of  stagger- 
juice. 

"Take  it  easy,"  I  say,  "an'  tell  me  where  this  Altmira 
is." 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

She  comes  back  to  earth. 

"Go  through  the  town  an'  keep  goin',  cowboy,"  she 
says,  "an'  when  you're  out  the  other  side  turn  right  at 
the  gas  station  an'  take  the  desert  road.  Keep  goin' 
some  more  an'  when  you've  done  about  thirty  miles 
an'  there  ain't  much  more  road,  you'll  see  it  away  on 
the  right.  Only  if  I  was  you  I'd  leave  your  bank  roll 
behind.  They're  funny  guys  out  there." 

I  say  thanks  a  lot;  I  pay  redhead  an'  I  scram. 

I  drive  fast  an'  plenty.  Bit  by  bit  I  get  out  into  the 
desert.  I  pass  plenty  places,  road  houses,  an'  hang  outs 
an'  a  dude  ranch  or  two.  Pretty  soon  they  start  stringin' 
out,  an'  a  bit  after  that  there  ain't  nothing,  nothin'  but 
foothills  an'  Joshua  trees,  cactus  an*  highway.  The 
speedometer  says  I  have  done  twenty,  an*  so  I  start 
singin'  Cactus  Lizzie  again,  because  I  have  found  that 
whenever  I  sing  this  song  I  seemta  go  faster. 

I  am  wonderin'.  I  am  wonderin'  just  how  this  guy 
Sagers  has  been  gettin'  along  an'  if  he  has  found  life 
interestin'  around  here.  I  get  to  thinkin*  about  him. 
He  is  a  young  sorta  guy.  .  .  . 

Then  I  see  the  dump.  The  road  has  sorta  tailed  off 
an'  is  good  an'  bumpy.  It  curves  around  to  the  right 
an'  inside  the  curve,  stuck  right  in  the  middle  of  a  swell 
spot  of  desolation,  is  this  Hacienda  Altmira.  It  is  the 
usual  sorta  adobe  building,  with  a  plaster  veranda  all 
the  way  round,  an*  a  laid  out  front  with  some  ornamen- 
tal cactus  stuck  around.  There  is  a  bunch  of  neon 
lights  over  the  front,  an*  as  I  get  near  I  can  hear  hot 
music.  Some  guys  are  playin'  guitars  an'  playin'  'em 
good. 

I  find  a  place  for  the  car  an'  leave  it.  When  I  say  I 
find  a  place  for  it  I  mean  I  leave  it  on  one  side  of  this 

8 


SOFT       PEDAL       FOR       SAGERS 

dump  in  the  shadow  of  a  mud  wall  just  so's  I  can  put 
my  hand  on  it  quick  if  I  wanta  get  outa  this  place  in  a 
hurry.  There  have  been  times  before  when  I  have 
wanted  to  vacate  some  spot  very  quickly  an'  I  have 
always  found  it  is  not  good  to  have  your  car  stuck  right 
in  the  front  of  the  place  where  some  guy  can  stick  a 
knife  in  the  tires. 

I  go  in  the  front  door.  The  place  is  built  Mexican 
fashion,  an'  there  is  a  sorta  passage  with  a  curtain  at  the 
end.  The  guitar  playin'  is  comin'  from  the  other  side 
of  the  curtain.  I  string  along  the  passage  an'  pull  the 
curtain  an'  lamp  in. 

I  am  surprised.  The  place  is  sweller  than  I  thought. 
It  is  a  big  adobe  walled  room  with  a  wooden  floor.  Dead 
opposite  me  is  a  bar  and  by  the  side  of  the  bar  is  a 
flight  of  stone  steps  leadin'  up  the  wall,  turning  left 
to  some  room  halfway  up  an'  then  turning  right  an' 
leadin'  on  to  a  wooden  balcony  that  goes  all  around 
the  room,  except  on  the  side  to  my  left  which  has  got 
big  screens  from  floor  to  ceilin'.  There  are  tables  set  all 
around  the  place  and  there  are  a  bunch  of  people  stickin' 
around. 

In  the  middle  of  the  tables  there  is  a  floor  that  has 
been  planed  down  an'  polished,  an'  dancin'  on  this 
floor,  doin'  a  heavy  tango  with  a  dame  that  is  old 
enough  to  be  his  mother,  is  what  looks  to  me  like  the 
desert's  swellest  gigolo. 

He  is  tall  an'  slim  an'  supple  an'  he  is  wearin'  a  pair 
of  Mexican  breeches,  a  silk  shirt,  an'  a  silly  smile,  an'  he 
is  pushin'  this  dame  around  as  if  he  would  rather  have 
been  flirtin'  with  a  rattlesnake.  The  band,  four  guys 
in  chaps  on  a  little  platform  on  the  left  of  the  bar,  is 
hittin'  up  some  swell  Spanish  stuff,  an'  there  are  four 

9 


DAMES       DONT       CARE 

or  five  other  guys  stickin'  around  the  bar.  Most  of 
these  guys  is  wearin'  cowboy  chaps,  or  breeches,  an'  I 
reckon  that  maybe  they  come  from  some  of  the  dude 
ranches  that  I  passed  on  my  way. 

From  above  my  head,  in  some  room  leadin'  off  the 
balcony  I  reckon,  I  can  hear  a  lotta  laughin'  an'  con- 
versation. At  a  table  away  on  the  left  near  the  windows 
three  guys  who  look  like  Mexicans  are  havin'  a  few 
words  over  some  tequila.  On  the  right,  there  is  a  party 
of  pretty  high  guys  in  tuxedos  with  some  women 
wearin'  some  swell  jewellery,  an'  as  I  have  not  seen  any 
cars  around  this  place  I  reckon  that  there  must  be  a 
garage  on  the  other  side  of  the  house  where  I  couldn't 
see  it. 

When  I  go  in  the  guys  at  the  bar  take  a  look  at  me, 
an'  then  go  back  to  their  wisecrackin'  with  the  fly- 
lookin'  jane  who  is  workin'  the  bar. 

I  pick  myself  a  table  on  the  edge  of  the  dance  floor, 
an'  I  sit  down.  After  a  bit  some  guy,  who  looks  like  he 
would  die  any  minute,  he  is  so  thin,  comes  over  and  says 
what  do  I  want.  I  give  him  an  order  for  some  ham  an' 
eggs  an'  a  lotta  whisky  an'  he  goes  off.  I  then  amuse 
myself  watchin'  the  guy  on  the  dance  floor  doin'  his 
stuff. 

He  goes  on  pushin'  this  dame  around  an'  by  the  way 
the  guys  who  are  playin'  the  guitars  are  lookin'  I  can 
see  that  there  is  a  big  laugh  somewhere.  Maybe  they 
think  that  the  big  boy  is  playin'  her  for  a  sucker,  and 
I  gotta  admit  that  he  is  certainly  goin'  on  like  a  hired 
dance  partner.  When  they  come  around  opposite  me 
he  turns  her  around  so  that  he  is  lookin'  at  me  an'  he 
gives  me  a  sorta  apologetic  grin  an'  a  double  wink. 

After  a  bit  the  boys  stop  playin'  an'  the  couple  go  off 

10 


SOFT   PEDAL   FOR   SAGERS 

to  a  table  where  I  can  see  there  is  a  bottle  of  cham- 
pagne, and  then  after  a  minute  some  guy  in  a  swell 
cut  tuxedo  an'  a  silk  shirt  comes  outa  the  room  half- 
way up  the  stairs.  He  sees  me  an'  sorta  smiles  an'  runs 
down  the  stairs  an'  comes  across  to  me. 

"Good  night  to  you,  senor,"  he  says.  "I  am  mos' 
pleased  to  welcome  you  to  Altmira.  I  'ope  you  get  ev- 
erything you  want." 

I  grin. 

"Me  too,"  I  tell  him. 

Then  I  shut  up. 

"You  are  in  thees  neighborhood  a  long  time?"  he 
asks  me.  "I  deed  not  theenk  I  'ave  seen  you  before. 
You  see,  senor,  you  are  ver'  lucky  to  find  us  open  at 
thees  time — eet  is  nearly  three  o'clock — but  tonight  we 
'ave  a  little  party  'ere  as  you  see.  I  'ope  we  shall  see  you 
some  more." 

The  waiter  guy  comes  back  with  the  whisky.  I  pour 
myself  a  stiff  shot  an'  pass  the  bottle  to  this  guy. 

"Have  a  drink,"  I  tell  him,  "an*  who  might  you  be?" 

He  smiles  an'  waves  his  hand  that  he  don't  want  a 
drink. 

"I  am  Periera,"  he  says.  "I  manage  thees  place.  Eet 
is  a  ver'  good  place,  when  you  get  to  know  eet." 

"Swell,"  I  tell  him.  "I'm  sticking  around  the  neigh- 
borhood for  a  bit,"  I  go  on,  "so  you'll  see  some  more 
of  me." 

He  grins  an'  he  goes  off. 

After  a  bit  the  waiter  comes  in  with  my  ham  an* 
eggs  an'  I  start  eatin'.  After  a  bit  the  guitar  guys  start 
playin'  again,  an'  sure  as  a  gun  the  gigolo  guy  gets  up 
an'  starts  cavortin'  around  with  the  dame.  This  old 
lady  is  so  keen  on  doin'  a  hot  rumba  that  it  looks  as 

11 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

if  she  is  goin'  to  bust  outa  her  dress  at  any  minute. 

As  they  come  swayin'  around  my  way,  I  swallow 
some  whisky  quick  an'  make  out  that  I  am  a  little  bit 
high.  When  they  get  opposite  me  I  look  up  at  the  guy 
an'  I  grin.  He  grins  back. 

"H'yah,  sissy?"  I  say,  good  an*  loud. 

You  coulda  heard  a  pin  drop.  The  party  on  the  right 
stop  drinkin'  an'  the  guys  at  the  bar  spin  around.  The 
big  boy  stops  dancin'  an'  takes  the  dame  back  to  the 
table  an'  then  he  walks  sorta  casually  over  to  me. 

"An*  what  did  you  say?"  he  asks  me. 

"I  asked  you  how  you  was,  sissy,"  I  tell  him. 

This  guy  is  quick.  He  takes  one  step  forward,  an'  as 
I  am  about  to  get  up  he  kicks  my  feet  sideways  an' 
busts  me  in  the  nose  at  the  same  time.  I  go  down  with 
a  wallop,  but  I  am  pretty  quick  an'  I  shoot  after  him 
an'  mix  it.  I  put  up  a  quick  uppercut,  which  he  side- 
steps an'  when  I  try  a  straight  one  he  blocks  it.  I  get 
hold  of  his  shirt  an'  yank  him  over  to  me  an'  he  trips 
me,  Japanese  scissor  fashion,  an*  we  go  down  again. 
The  band  has  stopped  playin'  an*  as  I  flop  I  can  see 
Periera  comin'  across. 

As  I  go  to  get  up  sissy  smacks  me  down  again,  an' 
when  I  do  get  on  my  feet  I  am  lookin'  not  quite  so  hot. 

I  stand  there  swayin'  a  bit  as  if  I  was  high,  an'  I  let 
out  a  hiccup  so's  they'll  be  certain. 

Periera  stands  smilin'  at  me. 

"Senor,"  he  says.  "I  am  sorry  that  you  should  make 
some  troubles  with  people  in  my  service.  Pleese  don't 
do  eet  some  more.  Eef  you  are  hurt  I  am  sorry." 

He  starts  brushin'  off  my  coat  where  it  is  dusty. 

The  sissy  has  gone  off  back  to  his  table  to  the  dame.  I 
look  across  at  him. 

12 


SOFT      PEDAL      FOR      SAGERS 

"Pleese  not  to  start  sometheen  else,  Senor,"  says 
Periera.  "We  do  not  like  some  troubles  here." 

I  flop  down  in  my  chair. 

"I  guess  you're  right  at  that,"  I  tell  him.  "I  guess  I 
had  too  much  before  I  come  here  an'  anyhow  he  was 
right  to  smack  me  in  the  puss.  It  looks  like  he  ain't  as 
big  a  sissy  as  he  looks,"  I  go  on. 

He  smiles. 

"Listen,  Periera,"  I  say.  "You  go  across  to  that  guy 
an'  tell  him  I'm  damn  sorry,  an'  that  I'd  like  him  to 
come  an'  have  a  drink  with  me  so's  there  ain't  any 
feelin's  over  this.  I'm  goin'  over  there  for  some  air." 

I  get  up  an'  I  stagger  across  the  room  to  the  side  where 
the  windows  are,  an'  I  pick  a  table  in  the  corner.  Pe- 
riera goes  across  to  the  sissy  an'  speaks  to  this  guy,  an' 
after  a  bit  he  gets  up,  says  something  to  the  fat  dame 
an'  comes  over.  As  he  stands  f acin'  me  he  hands  me  the 
double  wink  again. 

"Listen,  pal,"  I  say,  nice  an'  loud,  "I  reckon  that  was 
a  not  very  hot  thing  to  say  to  you.  I  reckon  that  if  you 
are  a  sissy  then  I'm  in  Iceland.  Sit  down  an*  have  a 
drink  on  it." 

We  shake  hands  an'  he  sticks  something  in  my  hand. 
I  yell  for  the  waiter  guy  an'  get  the  whisky  an'  glasses 
brought  over.  Nobody  much  is  payin'  any  attention  to 
me  now,  the  fun  bein'  over,  an'  after  I  have  poured  the 
drinks  I  light  a  cigarette  an'  start  waggin'  my  head  an' 
smilin'  like  I  was  makin'  a  lot  of  light  talk. 

Under  the  table  I  look  at  what  he  put  in  my  hand. 
It  is  his  Federal  badge.  I  slip  it  back  to  him. 

"O.K.  Sagers,"  I  tell  him,  smilin'  nice  an'  polite,  with 
a  swell  hiccup,  for  the  benefit  of  all  concerned.  "What 
do  you  know?" 

13 


DAMES      DONT      CARE 

He  gives  himself  a  cigarette  an*  under  cover  of 
lightin'  this  he  starts  talkin'  quick,  smilin'  an'  gesticu- 
latin'  like  we  was  havin'  some  airy  conversation. 

"Plenty,"  he  says,  "but  nothing  that  seems  to  look 
like  anything.  I  come  out  to  Palm  Springs  an'  started 
to  muscle  around  for  a  job.  Told  'em  I'd  been  tryin' 
for  extra  work  at  the  coast  studios.  I  contact  some  old 
lady  who  gets  me  a  job  at  the  Miranda,  but  pretty  soon 
I  see  this  is  the  job  I  want,  so  I  get  myself  fired.  The 
only  way  I  can  get  in  here  is  by  doin*  this  pansy  dancin' 
partner  act. 

"This  place  is  the  berries.  They  got  everything. 
They'll  take  you  for  a  toothpick.  There's  some  play 
goes  on  upstairs  that  would  make  the  Federal  Reserve 
Bank  look  like  a  five  an'  ten,  an*  the  roulette  wheel's 
so  crooked  that  one  night  when  some  guy  won  some- 
thing the  croupier  went  into  a  decline.  The  guy  over 
in  the  corner  with  the  fancy  moustache  is  runnin'  nose 
candy.  This  is  the  feller  who  beat  the  New  York  Nar- 
cotic Squad  to  it  three  years  back — what  he  don't  know 
about  sellin'  drugs  could  be  typed  on  the  back  of  a 
stamp.  The  guys  who  come  here  ain't  so  hot,  neither. 
Some  of  'em  are  the  usual  Palm  Springs  daddies  lookin* 
for  somethin'  swell  with  curves  an*  some  of  'em  look 
like  they  could  do  with  ten  to  fifty  years.  The  women 
are  a  mixed  bunch.  Some  of  'em  work  here  an'  some  I 
don't  know.  There's  all  sorts  of  janes  around  here." 

He  pushes  the  bottle  over. 

"What's  your  front?"  he  asks. 

"I'm  fakin'  to  come  from  Magdalena,  Mexico,"  I 
tell  him.  "I'm  supposed  to  be  bringin'  you  some  news 
that  a  guy's  left  you  some  money  an'  that  I've  got  a 
roll  on  account  for  you.  That  gets  you  outa  here.  Then 

14 


SOFT      PEDAL      FOR      SAGERS 

I'm  aimin'  to  stick  around  for  a  week  or  so  before  goin' 
back — that  is  unless  something  breaks.  Now  .  .  . 
where's  the  dame?" 

"She's  around,"  he  says.  "She  gets  me  guessin'  an' 
she'll  get  you  guessin',  Caution.  If  she  owns  this  place 
then  I'm  a  greaser.  The  manager  guy  Periera  treats  her 
like  she  was  nothin'.  She  does  a  hostess  act  around  here 
an'  looks  like  she  could  bite  a  snake's  head  off.  She's 
permanently  burned  up.  She's  got  class  an'  she  dresses 
like  a  million  dollars.  The  real  boss  is  Periera." 

"Does  she  live  here?"  I  ask  him. 

"Nope.  There's  a  little  rancho,  way  back  over  the 
intersection  off  towards  Dry  Lake.  She  lives  there. 
It  ain't  far — about  ten  miles  from  here.  I've  cased  it. 
Usually  there  ain't  anybody  around  there  except  some 
woman  who  cleans  up.  Pretty  often  there  ain't  any- 
body there  at  all." 

"O.K."  I  tell  him.  "Now  listen.  In  a  coupla  minutes 
I'm  goin'  to  blow  outa  here  an'  take  a  look  at  this 
ranch.  If  there  ain't  anybody  around  maybe  I'll  have 
a  look  inside.  When  I  scram  you  spill  the  beans  about 
how  this  guy  in  Arispe  has  left  you  this  dough  an'  that 
you're  firin'  yourself  an'  goin'  to  Mexico  to  collect. 
Tomorrow  mornin'  pack  up  an'  get  out.  Go  into  Palm 
Springs  an'  make  a  big  play  that  you  are  goin'  to  Mex- 
ico. See  the  Chief  of  Police  an'  tell  him  to  lay  right  off 
this  dump  while  I'm  stickin'  around.  Tell  him  to  tell 
the  bank  manager  here  to  keep  his  trap  shut  about  that 
counterfeit  bond.  Then  fade  out  for  the  border  by  car. 
When  you're  well  away  switch;  ditch  the  car  at  Yuma, 
grab  a  plane  an'  get  back  to  Washington.  Tell  'em  I'm 
here  an'  all  set.  Got  me?" 

"I  got  you,"  he  says.  "But  I  don't  like  it,  Lemmy. 

15 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

I  sorta  got  an  idea  in  my  head  that  somebody  around 
here's  leery  to  the  fact  that  I  ain't  an  honest-to-god 
film  extra  bein'  a  dancin'  partner.  I  reckon  they're  sus- 
picious." 

"So  what?"  I  tell  him.  "Suspicion  don't  hurt  nobody. 
O.K.  Sagers." 

We  start  drinkin'  an*  talkin'  again,  an'  after  a  bit  I 
put  up  a  big  act  of  shakin'  hands  with  him,  an'  call  for 
the  bill.  I  pay  it  an'  give  a  big  buenos  noches  to  Periera 
who  is  stickin'  around  the  entrance,  smilin'  like  he  was 
in  heaven,  an'  then  I  get  the  car  an'  scram. 

I  drive  along  till  I  come  to  the  intersection  an'  I  take 
the  main  desert  road.  It's  still  plenty  hot.  I  step  on  it 
an'  pretty  soon  I  see  this  ranch.  It  is  the  usual  sorta 
place.  I  pull  up  behind  a  Joshua  tree  an'  get  out  an'  take 
a  look  around.  There  ain't  no  lights  an'  there  ain't  a 
sign  of  life.  I  go  around  the  back  an'  it's  just  the  same. 
There  is  a  stake  fence  around  this  place  an'  after  a  bit  I 
find  a  gate  an'  I  go  through.  I  amble  up  to  the  back 
veranda  an'  knock  on  the  door,  but  nobody  don't  take 
any  notice. 

I  think  I  will  try  a  fast  one,  so  I  put  in  a  little  heavy 
work  on  the  door  with  a  steel  tool  I  got,  an'  in  about 
two  minutes  I've  got  the  lock  open  as  good  as  any  pro- 
fessional buster-in  coulda  done  it  an'  I  step  inside. 

I  pull  out  my  electric  flash.  I  am  in  a  sorta  little  hall- 
way that  is  furnished  not  too  bad.  In  front  of  me  is  a 
passage  leadin'  through  to  the  front  hall  an'  doors  each 
side.  At  the  end  of  this  passage  on  the  right  is  some 
stairs  leadin'  to  the  floor  above.  I  reckon  that  maybe 
what  I  am  lookin'  for  is  likely  to  be  in  a  bedroom,  so  I 
ease  along  the  passage  an'  up  the  stairs  an'  start  gum- 
shoein'  around  tryin'  to  find  the  dame's  bedroom. 

16 


SOFT       PEDAL       FOR       SAGERS 

There  is  four  bedrooms  up  there.  One  looks  like  a 
hired  girl's  room  an'  the  other  is  a  sorta  store  room — 
there  is  all  sorts  of  junk  lying  around.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  hall  there  are  the  other  two  rooms.  One  of 
'em  might  belong  to  anybody,  an'  it  don't  have  any 
special  features  that  attract  my  attention.  When  I  try 
the  last  door  I  find  it  is  locked  an'  so  I  think  that  maybe 
this  is  the  room  I  am  lookin'  for. 

I  take  a  look  at  the  lock  an'  I  think  that  it  might  fall 
for  the  spider  key  I  got  in  my  pocket,  an'  I  try  it  out 
an'  it  works.  I  have  the  door  open  pronto  an'  go  in. 
Directly  I  get  into  the  room  I  can  smell  that  this  is 
what  I  am  lookin'  for — the  perfume  comes  up  an*  hits 
me.  It's  swell — I  always  did  like  Carnation. 

I  go  over  an'  pull  the  shades  over  the  windows  before 
I  switch  on  the  flash,  an'  then  I  take  a  look  around. 

It  is  a  dame's  room  all  right.  There  is  a  wrap  lyin' 
over  the  back  of  a  rest  chair,  an'  there  is  a  long  line  of 
the  swellest  shoes  you  ever  saw.  Oh  boy,  was  they  good? 
There  is  little  shiny  patents  with  French  heels  an'  there 
is  dress  shoes  in  satin  an'  crepe-de-chine.  There  is  pol- 
ished brown  walkin'  shoes,  ridin'  boots  an'  a  pair  of  pink 
quilted  satin  mules  that  woulda  knocked  a  bachelor  for 
the  home  run.  I  tell  you  these  shoes  was  swell.  They 
sorta  told  you  that  the  dame  who  owned  'em  knew  her 
way  about,  an'  I  reckon  that  if  the  rest  of  her  kit  was 
on  the  same  level,  well,  she  was  an  eyeful  any  time. 

I  nose  around.  I  am  tryin'  to  figure  out  where  a 
dame — a  clever  dame — would  hide  some  papers  so  that 
nobody  would  guess  where  to  find  'em  supposin'  they 
figured  to  look.  I  reckon  that  either  she'd  have 
'em  stuck  on  her  body  an*  carry  'em  around,  or 
she'd  put  'em  in  an  innocent  sorta  place  where 

17 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

no    smart    guy    would    think    of    lookin'    for    'em. 

Over  in  the  corner  is  a  pile  of  books  standin'  on  a 
little  table.  I  go  over  an'  look  at  'em.  I  run  the  pages 
of  the  top  books  through  my  fingers  an'  they  are  O.K. 
but  when  I  grab  the  fourth  book — a  leather-bound  book 
of  poetry,  do  I  get  a  kick  or  do  I?  Somebody  has  cut  a 
big  square  out  of  about  fifty  pages  in  the  book,  an' 
stuck  inside  is  a  packet  of  letters.  I  look  at  the  address 
on  the  envelope  of  the  top  one,  an'  I  do  a  big  grin  be- 
cause it  is  addressed  to  Granworth  C.  Aymes  at  the  Clar- 
ibel  Apartments,  New  York  City. 

It  looks  as  if  I  have  pulled  a  fast  one  on  Henrietta. 
I  stick  the  packet  of  letters  in  my  pocket,  put  the  books 
back,  close  an'  lock  the  door  behind  me  an'  scram 
downstairs.  I  stick  around  for  a  bit  just  to  see  if  any- 
body has  been  tailin'  me,  but  everything  is  O.K. 

I  go  out  the  same  way  as  I  come  in,  an'  fix  the  back 
door  so's  it  looks  all  right.  I  go  over  to  the  car  an'  I 
head  back,  intendin'  to  take  the  main  desert  road  back 
to  Palm  Springs,  but  before  I  have  gone  far  I  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  I  will  go  back  to  the  Hacienda  Alt- 
mira  an'  just  have  a  look  around  an'  see  how  the  party 
is  goin'. 

I  am  there  in  about  fifteen  minutes. 

The  electric  sign  is  turned  off  an'  the  place  is  all  dark. 
There  ain't  a  sign  of  anything.  Way  up  on  the  top  floor 
f  acin'  me  I  can  see  a  little  light  comin'  between  the  win- 
dow shades. 

I  go  up  to  the  entrance  an*  it  is  all  fastened  up.  Then 
I  think  of  the  screens  around  on  the  left,  an'  I  get 
around  there.  They  are  locked  too,  but  they  are  pretty 
easy,  an'  I  have  one  open  pronto. 

18 


SOFT      PEDAL      FOR      SAGERS 

The  moon  has  come  up  an'  there  is  a  lot  of  it  tricklin' 
through  a  high  window  above  the  bar. 

I  shut  the  screen  behind  me  an'  start  easin'  across  the 
floor.  I  am  keepin'  quiet  an'  if  you  asked  me  why  I 
couldn't  tell  you.  It  just  seems  sorta  strange  that  this 
place  shoulda  closed  down  so  quick — especially  when 
everybody  looked  like  they  was  having  such  a  swell 
time. 

When  I  get  past  the  band  platform,  where  the  bar 
starts,  I  stop  and  take  a  look,  because  from  here  I  can 
see  the  bottom  of  the  adobe  stairs  that  lead  up  the  side  of 
the  wall.  There  is  a  piece  of  moonlight  shinin'  on  the 
stairs  an'  as  I  look  I  can  see  somethin'  shinin'.  I  go  over 
an'  pick  it  up.  It  is  the  silver  cord  that  Sagers  was 
wearin'  in  his  silk  shirt,  an'  there  is  a  bit  of  silk  stickin' 
to  it,  so  it  looks  like  somebody  dragged  it  off  him. 

I  turn  off  the  flash  an'  stick  around.  I  can't  hear 
nothin'.  I  lay  off  the  upstairs  an'  start  workin'  around 
the  walls,  nice  an'  quiet,  feelin'  for  door  knobs.  I  miss 
the  entrance  wall  because  I  know  that  the  passage  leads 
straight  out  front. 

I  get  over  the  bar  because  I  figure  that  there  will  be 
a  door  behind,  probably  leadin'  upstairs  an'  connectin' 
with  the  balcony  some  place.  There  is  a  door  all  right 
an'  I  have  to  spider  it  open  because  it  is  locked.  On  the 
other  side  is  a  storeroom.  I  go  in  an'  use  my  flash.  The 
room  is  about  fifteen  feet  square  an'  filled  with  wine 
an'  whisky  cases  an'  a  coupla  big  ice  boxes.  There  is 
empty  bottles  an'  stuff  lyin'  all  over  the  place. 

I  ease  over  an'  look  in  the  first  ice  box.  It  is  filled  with 
sacks.  In  the  second  ice  box  I  find  Sagers.  He  is  doubled 
up  in  a  sack  an'  he  has  been  shot  plenty.  I  reckon  he  was 

19 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

on  the  run  when  they  got  him  because  he  is  shot  twice 
in  the  legs  an'  three  times  through  the  guts  at  close 
range  afterwards.  I  can  see  the  powder  burns  on  his 
shirt.  Somebody  has  yanked  his  neck  cord  off  him  an' 
torn  his  shirt  open. 

I  put  him  back  in  the  ice  box  an'  close  it  like  it  was. 
Then  I  get  outa  the  storeroom,  lock  the  door  with  the 
spider  an'  mix  myself  a  hard  one  in  the  bar.  I  get  over 
the  bar  an'  scram  out  the  way  I  come  in. 

I  go  back  to  the  car  an'  drive  towards  Palm  Springs. 

It's  a  hot  night;  but  it  wasn't  so  hot  for  Sagers. 


20 


CHAPTER   II 

THE  LOW  DOWN 

ANYHOW  I  have  got  the  letters. 

When  I  am  about  ten  miles  from  Palm  Springs  I 
slow  down.  I  light  a  cigarette  an'  I  do  a  little  thinkin*. 
It  looks  to  me  as  if  it  is  no  good  makin'  any  schmozzle 
about  Sagers  bein'  bumped  off,  because  if  I  do  it  is  a 
cinch  that  I  am  goin'  to  spoil  the  chance  of  my  gettin' 
next  to  this  counterfeit  business. 

I  suppose  whoever  it  was  ironed  Sagers  out  will  take 
him  out  some  place  an'  bury  him  some  time  before 
dawn.  As  a  bump  off  it  was  a  nice  piece  of  work,  be- 
cause if  Sagers  had  told  'em  what  I  said  he  was  to  tell 
'em,  that  he  was  blowin'  outa  here  an'  goin'  back  to 
Arispe  to  get  the  dough  that  this  guy  was  supposed  to 
have  left  him,  then  that  is  goin'  to  account  for  his  dis- 
appearance, an'  who  the  hell  is  goin'  to  worry  about  one 
dancin'  partner  more  or  less.  Anyway  it  looks  like  I 
had  better  have  a  few  words  with  the  Chief  of  Police 
around  here  an'  tell  him  about  the  Sagers  bump  off,  an' 
get  him  to  lay  off  things  while  I  am  flirtin'  around  with 
this  proposition. 

When  I  get  into  the  main  street  I  pull  the  car  up  un- 
der a  light  an'  I  take  the  letters  outa  my  pocket  an'  I 
read  'em.  There  are  three  letters  altogether.  The  hand- 
writin'  is  good.  Nice  regular  sorta  letters  with  nice 
even  spaces  between  the  words,  the  sorta  handwritin' 
that  is  swell  to  look  at. 

The  first  letter  is  addressed  from  a  hotel  in  Hartford, 

21 


DAMES       DON'T       CARE 

Connecticut,  and  it  is  dated  the  3rd  January.   It  says: 
DEAR  GRANWORTH, 

/  know  that  you  always  have  thought  that  I  am  a 
fool,  and  I  haven't  minded  this  particularly,  but  I  do  in- 
sist that  you  credit  me  with  a  certain  amount  of  intel- 
ligence. 

Your  evasions  and  excuses  during  the  last  two  months 
confirm  my  suspicions.  Why  don't  you  make  up  your 
mind  about  what  you  are  going  to  do,  or  are  you  so 
selfish  that  you  are  prepared  to  take  what  advantage 
you  can  from  the  fact  that  the  community  regards 
you  as  a  happily  married  man  who  has  no  need  to  sow 
any  further  wild  oats,  while  at  the  same  time  you  con- 
tinue to  carry  on  an  affair  with  this  woman. 

When  you  denied  this  previously  I  believed  you,  but 
having  regard  to  the  events  of  the  last  day  or  two,  and  a 
letter  which  I  have  received  from  a  person  who  is  in  a 
position  to  know,  it  is  quite  obvious  that  you  have  been 
making  a  fool  of  me  and  other  people  for  some  time  past. 

I'm  fairly  good-tempered,  but  quite  candidly  I've 
had  enough  of  this  business.  Make  up  your  mind  what 
you're  going  to  do,  and  be  prepared  to  let  me  know  very 
shortly.  I  shall  arrange  to  come  back  and  hear  your 
decision. 

HENRIETTA. 

The  second  letter  is  from  the  same  hotel,  five  days 
afterwards,  the  8th  January,  an'  it  says: 

GRANWORTH, 

I  have  received  your  letter  and  I  don't  believe  a  word 
of  it.  You're  a  very  bad  liar.  1  am  going  to  have  satis- 
faction one  way  or  the  other.  Unless  1  do  get  satisfaction 

22 


THE        LOW      DOWN 

/  am  going  to  be  rather  unpleasant,  so  make  up  your 
mind. 

HENRIETTA. 

an'  the  third  is  just  a  few  lines  dated  four  days  after,  on 
the  12th  January.  It  says  at  the  top  "New  York"  and 
goes  on: 

GRANWORTH, 

7  shall  arrange  to  see  you  this  evening.  So  I've  GOT  to 
be  tough! 

HENRIETTA. 

I  put  the  letters  back  in  my  pocket  an'  I  light  another 
cigarette.  It  just  shows  you,  don't  it,  that  things  are 
not  always  what  they're  cracked  up  to  be.  Up  to  now 
everybody  believed  that  when  Granworth  Aymes  died 
Henrietta  Aymes  was  outa  town  in  Hartford,  an'  here 
is  a  note  which  definitely  shows  that  she  was  fixin'  to 
see  him  on  the  day  he  died,  an'  that  she  was  feelin' 
tough. 

It's  pretty  easy  to  see  why  Henrietta  was  so  keen  on 
gettin'  those  letters  back,  but  what  a  mug  she  was  to 
keep  'em.  Why  didn't  she  burn  'em?  Anyhow  it  looks 
to  me  that  if  I  have  any  trouble  with  her,  maybe  I  can 
use  these  letters  as  a  means  of  makin'  her  talk,  because 
I  am  beginning  to  think  that  this  Henrietta  is  not  such 
a  nice  dame  as  she  tries  to  make  out.  In  fact  I  am  begin- 
nin'  to  develop  a  whole  lot  of  ideas  about  her. 

I  get  out  my  notebook  an'  I  look  up  the  address  of 
the  Chief  of  Police  here.  He  is  a  guy  named  Metts, 
an*  he  has  got  a  house  just  off  the  street  I  am  parked  in. 
I  guess  he  is  not  goin*  to  be  so  pleased  about  being 
dug  up  at  this  time  of  the  night,  but  then  I  have  always 

23 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

discovered    that    policemen    ain't    pleased    with    any- 
thin'  at  any  time. 

I  drive  round  an'  park  the  car  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  street.  Then  I  go  over  an'  ring  a  night  bell  that  I 
find.  About  five  minutes  later  he  opens  the  door 
himself. 

"Are  you  Metts?"  I  ask  him. 

He  says  yes  an'  what  do  I  want.  I  show  him  my 
badge. 

"My  name's  Caution,"  I  say. 

He  grins. 

"Come  in,"  he  says.  "I  heard  about  you.  I  had  a 
line  through  the  Governor's  Office  that  probably  you'd 
be  handlin'  this  thing.  I  suppose  you're  down  here  about 
that  phoney  registered  Federal  bond  business." 

"You  said  it,"  I  tell  him. 

I  go  in  after  this  guy  an*  we  go  to  a  nice  room  on 
the  ground  floor  where  he  gives  me  a  big  chair  an'  a 
shot  of  very  good  bourbon.  Then  he  sits  down  an' 
waits.  He  is  an  intelligent  lookin'  cuss,  with  a  long 
thin  face  an'  a  big  nose.  I  guess  I  ain't  goin'  to  have 
any  trouble  with  him. 

"Well,  Chief,"  I  tell  him.  "I  don't  want  to  be  a 
nuisance  to  you  around  here.  I  just  want  to  get  this 
job  I'm  doin'  finished  as  soon  as  I  can  an'  scram  out 
of  it.  The  co-operation  I  want  from  you  ain't  much. 
It  is  just  this.  When  this  counterfeit  Federal  bond 
business  broke  an'  I  was  elected  to  handle  it,  I  got 
through  an'  got  a  guy  in  the  "G"  Office  at  Los  Angeles 
put  over  here  workin'  under  cover,  name  of  Sagers. 
He's  been  working  out  at  the  Hacienda  Altmira  as  a 
dancin'  partner. 

24 


THE        LOW      DOWN 

"I  blew  in  tonight  with  a  phoney  tale  about  his 
comin'  into  some  money  so  as  to  relieve  him,  but 
somebody  got  wise  to  the  job.  When  I  went  back  to 
this  dump  later  I  found  his  body  in  a  sack  in  the  ice 
safe.  Some  guy  had  given  him  the  heat  in  five  places. 
He's  still  there.  I'm  reportin'  that  to  you  officially  be- 
cause a  murder  around  here  is  your  job ;  but  I  don't  want 
you  to  do  anythin'  about  it  yet.  I'll  advise  Washington 
that  Sagers  is  due  to  have  his  name  put  on  the  memorial 
tablet  at  headquarters,  an'  we'll  just  leave  it  like  that 
for  the  time  being,  because  if  you  start  gumshoein* 
around  tryin'  to  find  out  who  bumped  him  off  we're 
just  goin'  to  get  nowhere.  O.K.?" 

He  nods  his  head. 

"That  looks  like  sense  to  me,"  he  says.  "That's  O.K. 
by  me.  I'll  get  out  an  official  report  as  from  you  on 
Sagers'  death,  an*  we'll  file  it  and  sit  ori  it  till  you  say 

go." 

"Swell,  Chief,"  I  tell  him.  "Now  the  other  thing  is 
this.  Who  was  the  guy  who  sent  the  information 
through  to  Washington  about  that  Federal  bond  bein' 
phoney?  Was  it  you?  If  it  was  where  did  you  get  your 
information  from?  Was  it  the  bank  manager?  How 
did  it  happen?" 

He  pours  himself  out  a  drink. 

"I'll  tell  you,"  he  says.  "I  got  it  from  the  bank 
manager.  When  this  Aymes  woman  came  out  here,  she 
opens  a  checking  account  at  the  bank.  The  bank 
manager,  who  is  an  old  friend  of  mine,  told  me  she 
opened  this  account  with  $2,000.  She  draws  on  this 
checking  account  until  there  is  only  ten  dollars  in 
it,  and  then  one  day  she  blows  down  to  the  bank  an' 

25 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

sticks  a  five  thousand  U.  S.  registered  Federal  bond 
over  the  counter  to  the  receivin'  teller  an'  asks  him  to 
pay  it  into  her  account. 

"Well,  that  bond  is  a  nice  piece  of  printin*.  He  looks 
at  it  an'  it  looks  good  to  him,  and  it  is  only  an  hour 
afterwards  when  the  manager  is  havin'  a  look  at  it  that 
he  gets  hep  that  it  is  counterfeit. 

"He  rings  up  Mrs.  Aymes  an'  tells  her  that  the  bond 
is  as  phoney  as  hell.  She  just  seems  a  little  bit  sur- 
prised, that's  all,  an'  accordin'  to  him  she  didn't  seem 
to  take  very  much  interest.  She  says  O.K.  an'  she  hangs 
up.  Next  day  he  writes  her  a  line  an'  says  he'll  be  glad 
if  she'll  look  in  at  the  bank. 

"She  blows  in.  Then  he  tells  her  that  this  business 
is  a  little  bit  more  serious  than  she  might  think.  He 
tells  her  that  he  has  got  to  report  that  a  counterfeit 
bond  has  been  paid  into  his  bank,  an'  that  the  best  thing 
that  she  can  do  will  be  to  tell  him  just  where  she  got 
the  bond  from  an*  all  about  it.  She  says  O.K.  she  got 
the  bond  from  her  husband  an'  she  got  it  with  a  packet 
of  $200,000's  worth  of  U.  S.  registered  Federal  bonds  that 
he  bought  in  New  York  for  good  money  an'  gave  to  her. 

"When  the  manager  asks  where  he  bought  'em,  she 
says  he  bought  'em  from  the  bank,  an'  when  the  man- 
ager says  that  it's  not  easy  to  believe  that  because  banks 
don't  sell  counterfeit  bonds,  she  says  that's  as  may  be 
but  that's  all  she  knows.  With  that  she  gets  up  and 
is  just  about  to  go  out  when  he  asks  her  where  hei 
husband  is  as  he  reckons  that  somebody  will  be  wantin' 
to  ask  him  some  questions. 

"She  turns  round  an'  she  smiles  a  little  bit,  an*  she 
says  she's  afraid  it  will  be  damn  difficult  to  ask  her 
husband  questions  because  he  committed  suicide  in 

26 


THE        LOW       DOWN 

New  York  on  the  12th  January  this  year.  Naturally 
this  staggers  the  manager  for  a  bit,  but  he  says  to  her 
that  she  ought  to  be  good  an'  careful  because  it  is  a 
federal  offense  to  change  bonds  that  are  screwy,  an' 
that  he  guesses  she  had  better  bring  the  rest  down  to 
see  what  they  look  like. 

"So  she  drives  off  an'  she  comes  back  with  the  rest 
of  this  stuff — $195,000's  worth  of  registered  Federal 
bonds  in  denominations  of  fifty  thousand,  twenty 
thousand,  ten  thousand,  five  thousand  an'  one  thou- 
sand dollars,  with  the  usual  interest  bearing  coupons 
that  go  with  them. 

"In  the  meantime  Krat,  the  manager,  has  been  on 
to  me  about  this  an'  after  she  has  left  the  stuff  at  the 
bank,  I  go  over  an'  look  at  it.  The  whole  damn  lot  is 
counterfeit,  but  the  job  has  been  done  so  well  that  you 
have  to  have  one  helluva  look  before  you  see  it. 

"Well,  there  is  the  story.  The  same  day  I  put  the 
report  through  to  the  State.  I  suppose  they  pass  it  on 
to  Washington  an'  you  get  the  job.  What  are  you  goin' 
to  do?  Do  you  think  she  was  in  on  this  game?  Do  you 
think  that  she  an'  this  husband  of  hers  got  this  stuff 
made  before  he  killed  himself?" 

"I  wouldn't  know,  Chief,"  I  say.  "Nothing  matches 
up  in  this  deal.  I've  handled  some  screwy  jobs  in  my 
time,  but  I  don't  think  I've  ever  got  one  quite  like  this, 
an'  maybe  it  won't  be  so  hot  for  her  before  I  am  through 
with  it." 

"One  of  them  interestin'  things,  huh?"  he  says. 

"Yeah,"  I  tell  him.  "An'  how!  It's  one  of  them 
funny  ones — you  know,  nothin'  matches  up,  but  as  a 
case  it's  damned  interestin'.  Here's  how  it  goes: — 

"This  guy  Granworth  Aymes  an'  the  dame  Henrietta 

27 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

Aymes  have  been  married  about  six  years.  He  is  a 
gambler.  He  plays  the  market  an'  sometimes  he  makes 
plenty  dough  an'  sometimes  he's  scrabbin'  around  for 
the  rent.  They  do  themselves  pretty  well  though; 
they  live  in  the  Claribel  Apartments,  New  York,  an* 
they  are  heavy  spenders  an'  put  up  a  good  front.  They 
are  supposed  to  be  plenty  happy  too,  in  fact  this 
Claribel  Apartments  dump  is  just  another  little  love 
nest,  an*  you  know  how  they  usually  end  up? 

"O.K.  Well,  at  the  end  of  last  year  this  Granworth 
Aymes  gets  a  hot  tip.  He  plays  it  up  well  an'  believe 
it  or  not  the  deal  comes  off.  He  muscles  in  on  a  big 
stock-pushin'  racket  an'  he  walks  out  of  it  with  a 
quarter  of  a  million  dollars  profit.  The  boy  is  now 
in  the  money. 

"Well,  it  looks  like  he  has  a  meeting  with  himself 
an'  he  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  he's  had  enough  of 
bein'  up  an'  down  on  the  market  an'  for  once  he  is 
goin'  to  be  a  sensible  guy  an'  salt  down  some  of  the 
profits.  So  he  pays  fifty  thousand  dollars  into  his 
checkin'  account  at  the  bank  and  with  the  other  two 
hundred  thousand  bucks  he  buys  himself  that  much 
worth  of  U.  S.  registered  Federal  bonds.  He  brings  'em 
along  to  his  down  town  office  an'  he  makes  'em  up  into 
a  parcel  an*  seals  it  up  an'  he  calls  his  lawyer  on  the 
telephone  an'  tells  him  to  legally  transfer  the  Federal 
bonds  to  his  wife  Henrietta  Aymes.  He  says  that  if  it's 
her  money  then  they'll  be  all  right  in  the  future  because 
she  is  a  careful  dame,  an'  will  stick  to  the  dough  an' 
not  let  him  go  jazzin'  it  around. 

"The  lawyer  guy  gets  a  bit  of  a  shock  at  hearin' 
Granworth  talk  like  this,  but  he  is  pleased  that  he  is 
gettin'  some  sense,  an'  he  draws  up  a  deed  of  gift  to 

28 


THE        LOW      DOWN 

Henrietta  Aymes  an'  the  deed  is  registered  an'  the  lawyer 
then  hands  the  bonds  over  to  Henrietta,  an'  the  bonds 
he  handed  over  was  O.K.,  they  wasn't  phoney,  they  was 
the  real  stuff. 

"All  right.  Well,  Granworth  is  on  top  of  the  world, 
ain't  he?  He's  got  a  swell  wife — because  they  tell  me 
that  this  Henrietta  is  one  swell  baby — he's  got  fifty 
thousand  dollars  in  his  checkin'  account.  He  don't  owe 
no  money  an'  everything  is  hunky  dory. 

"An'  it  looks  like  Granworth  is  learnin'  some  sense. 
He  plans  to  buy  some  more  insurance.  He  is  insured  on 
an  annuity  policy  at  this  time  with  the  Second  National 
Corporation  an'  he  waltzes  along  an'  he  says  he  wants 
to  take  out  additional  insurance.  He  wants  to  pay  a 
down  premium  of  thirty  thousand  dollars.  They  exam- 
ine him  for  health  an'  they  find  him  O.K.  They  give 
him  the  new  policy,  but  there  is  just  one  little  snag. 

"Two  years  before  this  guy  Granworth  Aymes  has 
tried  to  bump  himself  off.  He  tries  to  commit  suicide 
by  jumpin'  in  the  East  River.  He'd  been  havin'  a  bad 
time  an'  was  broke  an'  didn't  like  it.  He  was  fished  out 
by  a  patrolman. 

"Havin'  regard  to  this  little  thing  the  Insurance 
Corporation  make  a  proviso  in  his  policy.  The  proviso 
says  that,  havin'  regard  to  the  fact  that  he  has  tried 
to  commit  suicide  on  a  previous  occasion,  in  the  event 
of  future  suicide  on  his  part  the  poh'cy  is  nullified. 
They  will  pay  on  anything  else  but  not  suicide. 

"Got  that?  Well,  everything  goes  along  O.K.  an*  he 
makes  a  bit  more  dough  on  the  market,  an'  on  the 
12th  January  this  year  he  does  another  little  deal  that 
nets  him  twelve  thousand.  He  has  got  forty  thousand 
dollars  in  his  checkin'  account  at  the  bank,  no  debts, 

29 


DAMES      DONT      CARE 

a  wife  with  two  hundred  thousand  Federal  bonds  an' 
is  in  the  best  of  health  accordin'  to  the  Insurance 
examination  of  a  few  months  before.  So  what?  So 
just  this.  He  goes  an'  commits  suicide.  Can  you  beat 
that? 

"On  the  evenin'  of  January  12th  he  is  workin'  late 
at  his  office  with  his  secretary,  a  guy  named  Burdell. 
His  wife  is  stayin'  in  Hartford,  Connecticut;  he  has 
fixed  to  go  out  to  a  party  with  some  guys  he  knows, 
an'  this  Burdell  guy  says  he  was  plenty  excited  about 
something. 

"He  packs  up  at  about  eight  o'clock  an'  rings  the 
garage  for  his  car.  He  helps  himself  to  a  big  drink, 
says  good  night  to  the  Burdell  bird  an'  scrams.  Burdell 
says  he  was  lookin'  a  bit  strange  when  he  went  outa 
the  office. 

"He  used  to  drive  a  big  gray-blue  Cadillac — a  car 
you  couldn't  forget.  At  ten  minutes  past  nine  he  is 
seen  by  a  wharf  watchman  drivin'  the  car  down  to 
Cotton's  Wharf  which  is  around  there,  an'  while  this 
guy  is  watchin'  him  Granworth  drives  the  car  into  a 
wooden  pile,  bounces  off  an'  goes  over  the  edge  into 
the  East  River. 

"Next  mornin'  they  yank  the  car  out.  Granworth 
is  smashed  up  pretty  good.  They  get  him  along  to  the 
morgue  an'  Burdell  is  telephoned  for  an'  comes  along 
an'  identifies  him.  In  his  pocket,  inside  his  wallet  is  a 
note  sayin'  that  he  is  feelin'  funny  in  the  head  an'  that 
he  reckons  he  had  better  take  this  way  out  an'  to  give 
his  love  to  his  wife  an'  say  he  is  sorry  for  what  he  is 
doin'. 

"All  this  stuff  comes  out  at  the  inquest,  an'  his  wife 

30 


THE        LOW      DOWN 

is  brought  back  an'  is  knocked  out  by  the  news,  an' 
they  bury  this  guy  an'  that  is  that. 

"All  right.  They  clear  up  his  business  affairs,  an' 
after  everything  is  fixed  up  Henrietta  decides  that  she 
will  come  out  here  an'  give  herself  a  holiday  at  the 
Hacienda  Altmira  which  was  a  property  Granworth 
had  bought  when  he  was  out  here  two  years  before  an' 
leased  to  this  guy  Periera  who  calls  himself  the  manager 
out  there.  She  goes  off,  an'  she  hands  over  Granworth's 
office  business  to  the  secretary  Burdell,  because  Gran- 
worth  had  said  one  time  that  he  would  like  him  to  have 
it. 

"All  right.  Well  the  Aymes  dame  comes  out  here, 
an*  she  brings  with  her  about  five  thousand  dollars 
that  was  what  she  got  after  probate  was  fixed  out  of 
Granworth's  checkin'  account,  an'  I  suppose  she  brings 
out  the  two  hundred  thousand  bucks  in  Federal  bonds. 
The  next  thing  is  that  Washington  is  advised  by  the 
State  here  that  a  phoney  bond  has  been  slipped  over 
by  her  an'  that  she  has  got  another  $195,000's  worth 
of  phoney  Federal  bonds,  an*  they  put  me  on  the 
job. 

"I  do  a  little  bit  of  delvin*  around  an'  I  get  the 
shorthand  notes  of  the  inquest  an'  get  the  dope  that 
I  have  just  told  you.  I  check  up  with  this  Burdell  guy, 
an'  he  confirms  everything,  includin'  the  fact  that  this 
Henrietta  was  a  damn  good  wife  an'  a  swell  dame  to 
get  along  with;  that  she  was  too  swell  for  a  piker  like 
Granworth. 

"Meantime,  I  reckon  that  it  will  be  a  good  thing  if 
somebody  keeps  an  eye  on  this  dame  out  here.  So  I 
get  Sagers  put  on  the  job.  He  gets  orders  to  get  along 

31 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

here  an'  fix  himself  a  job  out  at  the  Altmira  somehow 
an'  just  case  out  the  situation  out  there.  He  told  me  all 
he  knew  tonight  an'  it  wasn't  much.  So  there  we  go, 
an'  what  do  you  know  about  that?" 

Metts  scratches  his  head. 

"I  reckon  that's  damn  funny,"  he  says.  "It  looks  as  if 
somebody  had  got  the  original  real  bonds  off  her  an* 
slipped  her  the  phoney  stuff  in  their  place." 

"Maybe,"  I  tell  him,  "an'  maybe  not.  Listen  Chief," 
I  go  on,  "you  tell  me  something.  When  this  bank 
manager  Krat  found  out  that  the  first  bond  she  tried 
to  slip  over  was  phoney,  who  did  he  tell  besides 
you?" 

"Nobody,"  he  says.  "He  told  me  that  he  hadn't  said 
a  word.  He  was  the  guy  who  found  out  that  the  bond 
was  screwy  an'  he  told  the  boys  in  the  bank  to  keep 
their  traps  shut  an'  say  nothin'  to  anybody.  He  said 
that  it  would  be  a  Federal  job  an'  the  least  said  the 
better.  Naturally,  I  ain't  told  a  soul.  I  reckoned  a 
federal  agent  would  be  along  here  pretty  quick  an'  I 
never  talk." 

He  looks  at  me  old-fashioned. 

"Say,"  he  says  with  a  sorta  snarl,  "you  don't 
think  .  .  ." 

"I  don't  think  nothin',"  I  tell  him,  "but  I'm  just 
askin'  you  to  get  a  load  of  this.  I  got  my  instructions 
to  handle  this  job  ten  days  ago.  I  was  in  Allentown, 
Pennsylvania.  I  ease  right  along  to  New  York,  an* 
park  myself  at  a  hotel  dump  I  use  on  East  30th  Street. 
The  second  day  I  was  there  somebody  sent  me  a  note 
with  no  signature  on  it.  This  note  said  that  I  would 
probably  do  a  damn  sight  better  for  myself  if  I  was  to 
get  out  to  Palm  Springs  an'  take  a  look  around  the 

32 


THE        LOW      DOWN 

dump  where  Mrs.  Aymes  was  stayin',  that  I  might  find 
some  interestin'  letters  there. 

"Well,  I  was  lucky.  Sagers  tipped  me  off  about  this 
place  tonight,  an'  I  went  over  there.  There  wasn't 
anybody  around  an'  I  had  a  look  around  an'  I  found  the 
letters.  They  was  hidden  in  a  book  with  the  inside 
cut  out — you  know,  Chief,  the  old  stuff — an'  these 
letters  show  that  things  wasn't  so  good  between  Hen- 
rietta an'  Granworth  as  the  world  believed.  More  than 
that  they  show  that  she  wasn't  in  Connecticut  the  night 
he  bumped  himself  off.  She  was  in  New  York,  an'  she'd 
gone  there  to  have  a  show-down  with  him.  An*  how 
do  you  like  that?" 

He  whistles. 

"That's  a  hot  one,"  he  says,  pourin'  me  out  some 
more  bourbon.  "Maybe  there  was  something  screwy 
about  that  suicide  of  his.  Maybe  she  bumped  him  off 
somehow.  Women  can  get  like  that  sometimes." 

"You're  tellin'  me,"  I  say,  "an*  what  does  she  bump 
him  off  for?  Does  she  bump  him  off  because  she's  found 
that  the  two  hundred  grand  in  Federal  bonds  is  phoney, 
huh?  Does  she  find  that  out  an'  get  annoyed  with  him? 
That  would  be  a  motive  all  right,  but  I  reckon  that  if 
she  knew  the  bonds  was  fake  she  wouldn't  have  been 
such  a  mug  as  to  try  an'  cash  one  in  on  a  bank.  She'd 
have  tried  a  fast  one  on  somebody  who  wasn't  so  wise 
as  a  bank  guy." 

I  shake  my  head. 

"I  can't  get  it,"  I  say.  "It's  not  so  hot." 

He  grins. 

"Dames  is  funny  things,"  he  says.  "They  do  all 
sorts  of  screwy  things — even  the  best  of  'em." 

I  sink  the  bourbon. 

33 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

"You're  tellin'  me,"  I  say.  "I  know  'em.  Dames 
don't  care.  Once  they  get  an  idea  they  just  do  some- 
thing tough," 

"Yeah,"  he  says.    "So  what  are  you  goin'  to  do?" 

I  grin. 

"Well,  Chief,"  I  tell  him,  "I'll  tell  you  what  I  ain't 
goin'  to  do.  I  ain't  goin'  to  run  around  here  flashin'  a 
tin  badge  an'  shoutin'  out  loud  that  I  am  a  Federal 
Agent.  I  am  goin'  to  check  in  at  the  Miranda  House 
an'  I'm  goin'  to  keep  up  the  front  that  I  am  from 
Magdalena,  Mexico,  that  I  come  here  to  tip  Sagers  off 
about  comin'  into  the  money,  an'  that  I  am  goin'  to 
stick  around  here  for  a  bit  an'  take  a  little  vacation. 

"Tomorrow  night  I  am  going  out  to  this  Hacienda 
Altmira.  I  am  goin'  to  get  next  to  these  guys.  If  they 
want  to  play  faro,  then  I'm  playin'.  I'm  goin'  to  get 
next  to  this  Henrietta  dame  an'  stick  around  until  I 
find  out  what  the  hell  this  dame  is  playin'  at  an'  whether 
she  is  on  the  up  an*  up  or  is  just  another  female 
chiseller  who  has  tried  to  pull  a  fast  one. 

"I  gotta  find  out  who  bumped  off  Sagers  an'  why.  I 
gotta  try  an'  get  next  to  somethin*  solid  about  these 
phoney  bonds,,  because,  right  now,  it  looks  as  if  nothin' 
makes  sense." 

"O.K.  by  me,"  he  says.  "An'  I  reckon  you  don't 
want  me  or  the  boys  interferin'  around  at  the 
Hacienda?" 

"You're  dead  right,"  I  say.  "Say,  is  this  place  as 
lousy  as  they  say?" 

He  shrugs. 

"It's  just  one  of  them  places,"  he  says.  "We've  had 
plenty  complaints  from  guys  who've  lost  their  dough 
there.  Gamblin's  illegal  an'  we  put  up  a  raid  now  an' 

34 


THE        LOW      DOWN 

then  just  to  amuse  the  children,  but  what's  the  use  of 
tryin'  to  stop  people  playin'  faro  or  shootin'  crap  for 
big  dough  if  they're  built  that  way?  Ten  months  ago 
some  guy  is  found  out  on  the  desert  away  back  of  the 
Hacienda.  He'd  been  clubbed  till  he  looked  like  a  map 
of  Europe  an'  he  was  good  an'  dead.  Plenty  people  said 
he'd  been  done  at  the  Hacienda  after  they  took  him  for 
his  dough,  an'  I  tried  all  I  knew  to  get  a  case  goin'  but 
I  couldn't  make  it.  I  couldn't  prove  a  thing." 

"O.K.  Chief,"  I  say  an'  I  shake  hands.  "Now  I  guess 
I  ain't  comin'  to  see  you  any  more.  It's  no  good  you 
an'  me  being  seen  around  together.  But  if  I  want  to 
contact  you  I'll  call  you.  If  you  want  me  I'm  at  the 
Miranda  House  an'  I'll  be  using  the  name  of  Frayme — 
Selby  T.  Frayme  of  Magdalena,  Mexico." 

I  scram.  I  get  the  car  an'  drive  over  to  the  Miranda 
House  an'  check  in.  Then  I  go  up  to  my  room  an* 
drink  some  coffee  an'  read  the  three  letters  again.  But 
I  still  can't  make  any  sense  outa  this  thing. 

One  little  thing  is  sorta  stickin'  around  in  my  mind 
an'  that  is  this.  I  would  very  much  like  to  know  who 
the  guy  was  who  sent  me  that  anonymous  letter  sayin' 
I  should  find  these  three  letters  out  here  at  Henrietta's 
dump.  I  wanta  know  who  this  guy  was,  an'  I  am  goin' 
to  guess  once  an'  take  a  shade  of  odds  that  I  am  right. 
The  only  guy  mixed  up  in  this  business  who  mighta 
known  that  I  was  stayin'  on  East  30th  Street  would  be 
Langdon  Burdell,  Granworth  Aymes'  secretary,  an' 
maybe  I  am  goin'  to  talk  cold  turkey  to  this  guy  pretty 
soon. 

But  even  if  it  was  him,  how  did  he  know  that  the 
letters  would  be  out  here  at  the  rancho?  An'  how  did 
he  know  that  Henrietta  had  taken  'em? 

35 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

Another  thing  is  that  I  have  always  found  this 
ferretin'  out  business  comes  hard.  Nothin'  in  this  "G" 
game  is  easy.  An'  I  found  them  letters  too  damn  easy. 
Maybe  I  was  meant  to  find  'em. 

I  go  to  bed  because,  as  I  have  told  you  before,  I  am 
a  great  believer  in  sleep.  If  the  tough  guys  an'  dames 
was  to  stay  in  bed  more  instead  of  rootin'  around 
raisin'  hell  generally,  "G"  men  could  take  time  out 
for  eatin'  cream  puffs. 

I  am  wonderin'  what  this  dame  Henrietta  is  like. 
They  say  she  is  one  swell  baby.  Well,  I  hope  they  are 
right,  because  if  I  have  gotta  pinch  a  dame  I  would  as 
soon  pinch  one  who  is  easy  to  look  at. 

You're  tellin'  me! 


CHAPTER    III 

HENRIETTA 

NEXT  day  I  just  stick  around.  In  the  afternoon  I  ease 
along  to  the  telegraph  office  an'  I  sent  a  code  wire 
to  the  "G"  Office  in  New  York  askin'  them  to  let  me 
have  a  list  of  the  servants  an'  people  employed  by 
Granworth  Aymes  at  the  time  of  his  suicide  an'  their 
locations  right  now,  that  is  if  they  can  find  'em  out. 

I  have  got  a  sorta  hunch  about  this  Aymes  suicide. 
It  looks  to  me  like  there  is  something  screwy  about  it, 
an'  if  I  can  dig  up  anything  that  is  goin'  to  help  me 
along,  then  I  reckon  I  am  goin'  to  dig. 

The  main  difference  between  the  sorta  things  that 
you  read  about  in  detective  fiction  an'  the  things  that 
happen  in  real  life  is  that  the  real  life  things  is  always 
a  damn  sight  more  strange  than  the  ones  in  the  book.  No 
writin'  guy  ever  had  the  nerve  to  write  a  story  that  he 
knew  was  true — nobody  woulda  believed  him;  but  in 
the  books  there  is  always  a  bunch  of  clues  that  the 
crook  leaves  lyin'  about  just  like  they  was  banana 
skins  for  the  dick  to  slip  up  on. 

Me — I  always  follow  my  nose  an'  just  go  right 
ahead.  That's  my  system.  I  don't  believe  what  any- 
body tells  me  on  a  case  till  I've  checked  on  it,  an'  even 
then,  like  as  not,  I  still  don't  believe  'em. 

One  snag  is  that  the  New  York  medical  examiner 
says  that  Granworth  Aymes  committed  suicide,  and 
it  ain't  any  busines  of  mine  to  go  gumshoein'  around 
bustin'  that  verdict  wide  open  unless  it's  got  some  direct 

37 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

bearin'  on  the  counterfeit  business.  You  gotta  realize 
that  I  am  a  Federal  Agent  an'  it  is  not  my  business  to 
check  up  on  police  work  or  try  an'  prove  that  they  are 
wrong — not  unless  I  have  got  to. 

At  the  same  time  I  decide  that  I  will  do  some 
delvin'  because  it  stands  to  reason  that  the  counter- 
f  eitin'  of  these  Federal  bonds  mighta  been  done  in  more 
than  one  way.  First  of  all  somebody  might  have 
pinched  the  original  certificates  an'  substituted  the 
counterfeit  ones  after  they  had  been  handed  over  to 
Henrietta  Aymes.  This  coulda  been  done  without 
Granworth  knowin'  anything  about  it,  or  else  it 
coulda  been  arranged  by  him  an'  done  with  his  knowl- 
edge, although  where  this  woulda  got  him  I  don't 
know. 

Then  Henrietta  mighta  got  the  counterfeit  stuff  made 
after  Aymes  was  dead,  thinkin'  that  she  had  a  better 
chance  of  passin'  it  than  anybody  else  just  because 
everybody  knew  that  Aymes  had  given  her  the  regular 
bonds.  But  even  if  this  was  so  you  woulda  thought 
she  wouldn'a  have  been  such  a  mug  as  to  try  an'  push  one 
over  on  a  bank.  Anybody  will  cash  a  registered  Federal 
bond  if  they've  got  the  money,  an'  there  was  plenty  of 
other  places  she  coulda  tried  first. 

Supposin'  that  she  is  tryin'  a  fast  one.  Well,  where 
are  the  original  certificates  an'  who's  got  'em? 

I  can't  help  thinkin'  in  the  back  of  my  head  that  there 
is  some  connection  between  the  counterfeitin'  business 
an'  this  schmozzle  that  is  goin'  on  between  Henrietta 
an'  Granworth  over  this  woman  just  before  he  dies. 
It  also  looks  very  screwy  that  Henrietta  was  aimin'  to 
go  an'  see  him  on  the  day  that  he  bumped  himself 
off;  an'  here  is  another  little  thing  that  I  cannot 

38 


HENRIETTA 

understand:  The  New  York  police  told  me  that  at 
the  inquest  on  Aymes,  Burdell,  his  secretary,  an'  the 
other  servants  workin'  in  the  Aymes'  apartment  all  said 
that  Mrs.  Aymes  was  away  in  Connecticut  until  after 
the  suicide,  when  Burdell  sent  her  a  wire  an'  she  came 
back  pronto  so's  to  be  at  the  funeral. 

Anyway,  I  reckon  that  I  will  take  a  look  at  this 
Henrietta  as  soon  as  I  can,  an'  maybe  she  an'  me  can 
do  a  little  talkin'  an'  see  if  we  can  get  some  of  this 
business  straightened  out. 

Sittin'  on  the  veranda  outside  my  bedroom  window, 
drinkin'  a  mint  julep,  I  get  to  thinkin'  about  Sagers. 
I  am  tryin'  to  find  some  reason  why  some  guy  shoulda 
bumped  him  off.  Nobody  could  know  that  there  was 
any  connection  between  Sagers  an'  me,  an'  the  act  we 
put  on  at  the  Hacienda  Altmira  the  night  he  got  his 
was  watertight.  Nobody  woulda  suspected  that  he  was 
reportin'  to  me  while  we  was  doin'  that  big  makin' 
friends  act. 

So  it  looks  to  me  like  somebody  out  at  the  Hacienda 
thought  that  Sagers  knew  a  damn  sight  more  than  he 
did,  an'  when  he  blew  along  an'  said  that  he  had  come 
into  this  money  an'  was  scrammin',  they  thought 
they'd  better  make  a  certainty  of  him  an'  give  him  the 
heat.  Even  so  I  reckon  he  was  shot  in  a  funny  sorta 
way. 

The  way  he  was  lyin'  on  those  stairs  looked  to  me 
that  he  was  comin'  down  'em  when  he  was  shot.  There 
was  a  powder  burn  round  one  of  the  bullet  holes  where 
he  was  shot  in  the  stomach  an'  that  particular  shot  was 
fired  at  pretty  close  range — about  four  feet  away  I 
should  think. 

So  I  work  it  out  this  way:   Sagers  was  up  in  one 

39 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

of  the  rooms  leading  off  the  balcony  that  runs  round 
the  inside  wall  of  the  Hacienda.  Somebody  shot  him  in 
the  guts  an'  Sagers,  not  havin'  a  gun  on  him,  evidently 
thought  he'd  better  blow  before  they  ironed  him 
some  more.  So  he  turns  around,  gets  along  the  balcony 
an'  starts  runnin'  down  the  stairs. 

The  guy  who  is  doin'  the  shootin'  leans  over  the 
balcony  an'  puts  a  couple  shots  into  Sagers'  legs.  Sagers 
falls  down  an'  the  guy  then  walks  over  an'  standin'  at 
the  top  of  the  stairs  puts  another  shot  into  his  body. 
This  would  account  for  the  fact  that  there  wasn't  any 
powder  marks  around  the  other  bullet  holes. 

The  shootin'  guy  then  walks  down  the  stairs,  steps 
over  Sagers'  body,  an'  standin'  two  or  three  stairs  below 
him,  gets  hold  of  his  silver  shirt-neck  cord  so  as  to 
pull  him  over  his  shoulder.  In  doin'  this  the  cord 
breaks  an'  the  little  tassel  falls  off  the  end  on  to  the 
stairs  where  I  found  it.  The  killer  then  carries  Sagers 
along  to  the  store  behind  the  bar  an'  dumps  him  in  the 
ice  chest,  all  of  which  is  very  interestin'  only  it  don't 
get  me  any  place  except  that  I  have  gotta  sorta  idea  that 
one  day  I  would  like  to  bust  this  shootin'  guy  a  coupla 
hard  ones  an'  get  him  the  hot  squat  afterwards. 

After  all  this  thinkin'  I  go  inside  an'  lie  down  an' 
read  a  detective  magazine  because  it  takes  my  mind 
off  my  business,  an'  then,  when  the  evenin'  starts 
arrivin'  I  get  up  an'  I  put  on  a  very  swell  "soup-an'- 
fish"  that  I  have  got,  dinner  pants  an'  a  white  serge 
tuxedo  that  makes  me  look  like  the  King  of  Japan,  after 
which  I  eat  my  dinner  an'  wisecrack  with  the  girl  in 
the  reception. 

At  eleven  o'clock  I  get  out  the  car  an'  I  take  the 
desert  road  an'  make  for  the  Hacienda  Altmira.  I 

40 


HENRIETTA 

decide  I  will  just  stick  around  an'  see  if  something  is 
happenin'  that  is  interestin'. 

It  is  a  swell  night,  an'  when  I  get  there  I  can  hear  the 
guitars  goin'.  A  half  a  dozen  horses  are  tied  up  around 
the  back,  an'  there  are  a  coupla  dozen  cars  parked  in 
the  garage  round  at  the  side.  I  leave  the  car  an'  walk 
around  to  the  front  entrance. 

Periera  is  there.  He  is  all  dressed  up  an'  I  can  hear 
from  the  noise  comin'  along  the  passage  that  there  are 
plenty  people  around.  Periera  says  will  I  have  a  drink 
on  the  house  an'  I  say  yes,  an'  while  I  am  checkin'  in 
my  fedora  they  bring  me  a  high  ball.  I  say  good  health 
to  him  an'  drink  it,  an'  he  takes  a  quick  look  at  me  an' 
says  that  if  I  would  like  a  little  game  of  anythin'  there 
will  be  one  goin'  some  time  after  twelve  o'clock  an' 
that  it  will  be  in  the  room  on  the  balcony  right  at 
the  top  of  the  stairs.  I  say  thanks  a  lot  an'  that  I  am 
game  for  anything  that  is  a  gamble  from  crap  shootin' 
upwards. 

He  laughs  an'  I  walk  along  the  passage  an'  pull  the 
curtain  an'  stand  lookin'  on  to  the  main  floor. 

The  place  is  crowded.  All  the  tables  are  full  of  guys 
and  there  are  some  swell  dames  with  'em.  Two,  three 
cowboys — real  or  dude  I  don't  know — are  standin'  up 
against  the  bar,  an'  the  piece  of  dance  floor  is  pack  full 
of  people  dancin'.  There  are  colored  streamers  hangin' 
from  the  balcony,  an*  on  the  walls  are  long  Spanish 
shawls  an'  here  an'  there  a  Mexican  blanket — the 
place  looks  swell  I'm  tellin'  you.  The  band  know 
their  stuff  an'  they  are  playin'  a  hauntin'  tune — some 
Mexican  tango,  an'  one  of  the  guys  on  the  band  plat- 
form, who  has  got  the  sorta  voice  that  makes  a 
temperamental  dame  wanta  go  into  a  convent,  is  singin' 

41 


DAMES       DON     t       CARE 

a  song  about  dyin'  for  love  that  is  breakin'  some  of 
them  janes'  hearts. 

There  are  two  or  three  tables  around  the  bank 
platform  an'  the  women  sittin'  at  'em  are  lookin'  up 
at  this  guy  like  he  was  an  angel  or  something.  When 
one  of  the  men  with  'em — they  look  like  business  men 
from  Los  Angeles — says  anything  the  dames  sorta 
shut  him  up  in  case  they  miss  a  bit  of  the  song,  which 
only  goes  to  show  you  that  some  dames  are  screwy  as 
hell.  These  dames  marry  some  business  guy  an'  he 
buys  'em  swell  dresses  an'  takes  'em  places  where  they 
can  sling  a  warm  look  at  a  cheap  palooka  who  is 
singin'  in  a  club  band.  Sometimes  they  go  the  whole 
hog  an'  run  off  with  these  crooners,  after  which  they 
get  wise  an'  spend  the  rest  of  their  lives  tryin'  to  find 
another  business  man  that  can  get  next  to  an'  marry, 
so  that  they  can  get  some  more  dresses  an'  sling 
longing  looks  to  some  different  band  guys. 

I'm  tellin'  you  that  the  place  was  a  sight,  one  of  the 
prettiest  pictures  I  have  ever  seen,  an'  then  just  as  I 
was  goin'  to  move  down  an'  walk  over  to  a  table  I 
see  a  dame  walkin'  my  way.  She's  comin'  from  the 
left  of  the  room  over  by  the  windows.  This  dame  has 
got  what  it  takes — an'  then  a  bundle!  She  is  tall  an' 
slim,  an'  she  has  got  all  the  right  curves.  She's  as 
pretty  as  a  picture  an'  she  has  got  her  nose  stuck  up 
in  the  air  like  she  was  a  queen.  She  is  a  brunette  an'  the 
way  she  has  her  hair  done  is  aces.  It  was  swell. 

An'  she  looks  tough.  Her  mouth  is  set  in  a  hard  line 
an'  I  see  that  she  has  got  a  jaw.  Somehow  for  no 
reason  at  all  I  know  that  this  is  Henrietta. 

I  look  back  down  the  passage.  Periera  is  still  standin' 

42 


HENRIETTA 

there  wise-crackin'  with  the  girl  who  is  checkin'  in  the 
hats.  I  nod  my  head  at  him  an'  he  comes  along. 

"Who's  the  baby,  Periera,"  I  say,  "the  one  who  has 
just  sat  down  at  that  table  over  there,  the  one  by 
herself?  I  didn't  know  you  had  dames  around  here  like 
that." 

He  grins  up  at  me.  This  guy  Periera  reminds  me  of  a 
snake.  I  don't  like  him  a  bit. 

"Senor,"  he  says,  "we  got  everything.  Thees  lady 
ees  the  Senora  'Enrietta  Aymes." 

"You  don't  say,"  I  crack. 

I  look  surprised. 

"Say  listen,  Periera,"  I  say.  "She  ain't  the  dame  that 
was  married  to  that  guy — what  was  his  name — Gran- 
worth  Aymes— the  guy  who  bumped  himself  off  in 
New  York?  I  was  there  at  the  time.  I  read  about  it 
in  the  papers." 

He  nods,  an'  he  puts  on  an  expression  like  he  was 
very  sorry.  Then  he  makes  himself  out  to  be  the  big 
guy.  He  says  how  this  Henrietta  came  out  to  the 
Hacienda  Altmira  thinkin'  that  it  belonged  to  Gran- 
worth,  her  husband,  an'  when  she  gets  out  there  he  has 
the  sweet  duty  of  tellin'  her  that  the  place  is  mortgaged 
over  to  him;  that  Granworth  didn't  pay  off  the  mort- 
gage, an'  that  it  is  his  place. 

He  spreads  his  hands. 

"Then,  senor,"  he  says,  "there  is  some  more  troubles 
for  thees  unfortunate  lady.  There  ees  some  argument 
about  her  money.  She  tells  me  she  has  no  money. 
So,"  he  goes  on,  "I  let  her  stick  around.  I  am  a  good 
man,  you  understand,  Senor.  I  feel  sorry  for  thees  poor 
woman.  I  let  her  stay  around  here  an'  be  hostess 

43 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

until  she  makes  up  her  mind  what  she  would  like  to  do." 

"Yeah,"  I  tell  him.  "It  looks  like  you're  a  good  guy, 
Periera.  How  about  meetin'  the  lady?" 

He  nods,  but  just  then  I  tell  him  it  don't  matter, 
because  goin'  towards  the  table  where  Henrietta  is 
sittin'  is  a  guy.  He  is  a  big  guy  an'  he  looks  pretty 
regular  to  me.  He  has  got  a  nice  sorta  face.  I  can  tell 
by  the  way  that  this  guy  is  lookin'  at  Henrietta  as  he 
goes  towards  the  table  an'  the  way  that  she  looks  back 
at  him,  that  these  two  are  pretty  friendly.  I  grin  at 
Periera. 

"Looks  like  she's  got  a  boy  friend,"  I  say,  "nice  lookin' 
guy.  Who  is  he?" 

"'Ees  name  is  Maloney,"  says  Periera.  *"E  comes 
around  here  a  lot.  He  plays.  Maybe  he  plays  to-night." 

I  nod. 

"Well,  I  hope  I  take  some  dough  off  him,"  I  say. 
"By  the  way  my  name's  Frayme — Selby  Frayme.  Do 
you  play  high  stakes  around  here?" 

He  shrugs  his  shoulders. 

"What  you  like,  Senor  Frayme,"  he  says.  "For  us  the 
roof  ees  always  the  limit." 

I  say  O.K.  Then  I  go  an'  sit  down  at  a  table  and  order 
myself  a  high  ball.  I  decide  it  is  not  very  much  good 
my  tryin'  to  muscle  in  an'  talk  to  Henrietta  while  this 
guy  is  stickin'  around. 

The  time  goes  on.  Periera  takes  me  over  an'  intro- 
duces me  to  some  party  sittin'  at  a  big  table.  These 
guys  are  pretty  warm-hearted  guys  an'  the  women 
with  them  can  certainly  dance.  If  I  hadn't  had  my 
mind  on  the  job  all  the  time  I  would  certainly  have 
enjoyed  that  dancin'. 

About  two  o'clock  people  start  movin',  an'  in  half 

44 


HENRIETTA 

an  hour's  time  the  place  is  pretty  empty,  except  for 
about  ten  or  twelve  people  who  were  stickin'  around. 
It  looks  to  me  like  these  people  are  the  ones  who  are 
goin'  to  do  the  playin'. 

My  party  scram  out  of  it,  an'  as  I  am  sayin'  good 
night  to  'em,  Periera  comes  over.  He  tells  me  that  play 
will  be  startin'  any  minute  now,  an'  that  I  know  where 
the  room  is,  the  one  at  the  top  of  the  stairs.  I  tell  him 
yes  but  I  think  I  am  goin'  to  have  a  walk  around  first. 
I  go  out  the  front  way  an'  I  walk  around  the  place 
sniffin'  the  air.  I  am  very  funny  about  any  sorta  gam- 
blin'.  I  like  the  game  to  get  started  before  I  bust  into  it. 

About  twenty  minutes  afterwards  I  go  back.  One  of 
the  waiter  guys  is  closing  down  the  windows  on  the  left 
hand  side  of  the  club.  The  band  have  packed  up  and 
most  of  the  lights  are  down.  I  walk  across  the  floor, 
up  the  stairs  an'  go  into  the  room  at  the  top.  It  is  a 
fair  sized  room,  with  a  big  table  in  the  middle.  There 
are  some  guys  playin'  baccarat  at  this  table,  an*  at 
another  little  table  in  a  corner  another  three  guys  an' 
two  dames  are  playin'  poker. 

Maloney  is  at  the  baccarat  table  an'  standin'  near  to 
him  watchin'  the  play  is  Henrietta.  All  the  guys  up 
there  are  wearin'  tuxedos,  an'  one  or  two  of  'em  at 
the  baccarat  table  look  plenty  tough  to  me.  It  looks 
like  everybody  has  been  doin'  some  drinkin'  too  be- 
cause there  is  that  sort  of  atmosphere  that  comes  when 
people  get  high. 

After  a  minute  Periera  comes  along,  looks  in  an'  then 
goes  off  some  place.  I  just  stick  around  and  watch. 

Maloney  ain't  doin'  so  well.  He  is  losin'  plenty  an' 
he  don't  look  so  happy  about  it.  Also  he  is  lookin'  a 
little  bit  puzzled  as  if  he  cannot  quite  understand 

45 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

somethin',  an'  I  am  wonderin'  if  somebody  has  been 
doin'  a  little  fast  stuff  with  the  cards. 

After  about  ten  minutes  Maloney  goes  banco  an* 
flops  on  it.  He  loses  a  bundle.  He  turns  round  an'  he 
looks  at  Henrietta  with  a  silly  sorta  grin. 

"It  don't  look  anythin's  comin'  my  way,"  he  says. 
"I  never  seem  to  get  any  luck  at  all  around  here." 

She  smiles,  an'  believe  me  her  teeth  match  up  with 
the  rest  of  her,  an'  did  I  tell  you  that  she  had  sapphire 
blue  eyes.  Me,  I  have  always  been  very  partial  to 
sapphire  blue  eyes! 

"Why  not  give  it  a  rest?"  she  says.  "Or  would  you 
like  me  to  play  a  hand  for  you?" 

On  the  other  side  of  the  table  is  a  big  guy.  He  is 
a  broad-shouldered  fellow  with  a  thin  face  an'  a  lotta 
black  hair.  I  have  heard  him  called  Fernandez.  He  is 
watchin'  Maloney  all  the  time  while  they  are  talkin*. 
Then  he  chips  in: 

"It  looks  like  both  your  lucks  out,"  he  says.  "But," 
he  goes  on  with  a  snicker,  "maybe  you  always  expect 
to  win.  Maybe  you  don't  like  losin'." 

Maloney  goes  red. 

"Whether  I  like  winnin'  or  losin'  is  my  business, 
Fernandez,"  he  says.  "An'  I  don't  need  any  wisecracks 
outa  you.  I  don't  mind  losin',"  he  goes  on,  "but  I 
said  that  I've  got  a  funny  habit  of  always  losin'  when 
I  play  around  here."  He  grins  sorta  sarcastic.  "But 
maybe  it  is  only  my  imagination,"  he  says. 

"You  don't  say,"  says  Fernandez. 

He  gets  up  sorta  very  slow  an'  pushes  his  chair  back. 
Then  he  leans  across  the  table  an'  he  busts  Maloney 
a  hard  one  right  on  the  puss.  You  coulda  heard  the 
smack  a  mile  away. 

46 


HENRIETTA 

Everybody  stops  everything.  Maloney  does  a  swell 
back  fall  over  the  back  of  his  chair.  He  gets  up  an5  he 
is  lookin'  groggy.  By  this  time  Fernandez  has  walked 
around  to  the  end  of  the  table.  He  gets  Maloney  off  his 
balance  an'  chins  him  again.  This  guy  Fernandez  is 
lookin'  like  a  burned-up  tiger.  He  is  all  steamed  up  an* 
I  get  the  idea  that  he  is  a  dope.  I  stand  over  in  the 
corner  an'  light  a  cigarette.  I  am  just  beginnin'  to 
get  interested. 

Henrietta  has  gone  back  up  against  the  wall.  She  is 
watchin'  Maloney.  Her  eyes  are  glitterin'  an'  I  know 
she  is  sorta  prayin'  that  he  can  get  up  an'  hand  Fernan- 
dez something.  In  the  corner  one  of  the  dames  playin* 
poker,  who  is  very  high,  starts  cacklin'.  She  thinks 
it's  funny. 

Maloney  gets  up.  He  is  shook  all  right,  but  wades 
in  at  Fernandez.  He  swings  a  right  which  Fernandez 
blocks,  an'  before  Maloney  can  do  anythin'  about  it 
Fernandez  gives  him  another  haymaker.  Maloney  goes 
down  again  an'  he  is  not  lookin'  pretty.  One  eye 
is  closed  up  an'  his  face  is  covered  with  blood. 

The  guys  playin'  poker  in  the  corner  get  up.  One  of 
'em — a  little  guy — comes  over. 

"Why  don't  you  two  mugs  cut  it  out?"  he  says. 
"What  do  you  think  this  is?  Madison  Square  Garden 
or  what?  An'  what's  the  matter  with  you,  Fernandez? 
Why  must  you  always  start  somethin'  around  here?" 

Fernandez  turns  round  an'  grins  at  him. 

"Don't  you  like  it,"  he  says. 

He  wipes  this  little  guy  across  the  face  with  the  back 
of  his  hand. 

"If  you  don't  like  it,"  he  says,  "get  out." 

There  is  a  sorta  silence — the  sorta  stuff  that  they 

47 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

call  atmosphere.  Nobody  says  anythin'.  Then  the  little 
guy  who  has  just  been  smacked  down  gets  up  an' 
walks  outa  the  room.  His  party  go  with  him.  Maloney 
has  got  up.  He  is  standin'  against  the  wall  an'  he  don't 
look  so  good  to  me.  I  reckon  that  first  punch  of 
Fernandez' — that  one  across  the  table — shook  him  con- 
siderable. 

I  go  over  to  him. 

"Listen,  big  boy,"  I  say.  "Why  don't  you  go  some 
place  an'  get  that  mug  of  yours  cleaned  up.  It  ain't 
pretty.  An'  while  you're  about  it  I'd  have  a  drink  if  I 
was  you.  You  look  as  if  you  could  do  with  one." 

I  turn  to  Henrietta  an'  I  grin. 

"Look,  lady,"  I  say.  "Take  him  away  an'  do  a  big 
nursemaid  act.  After  which,"  I  say,  "we  might  play 
a  little  game  of  cards  around  here." 

While  I  am  talkin'  Periera  has  come  in  the  room. 
He  is  standin'  just  inside  the  doorway  an'  he  is  lookin' 
quite  pleased.  It  looks  like  this  Fernandez  is  a  friend 
of  his,  an'  the  big  guy  around  here.  Henrietta  don't 
say  anythin'  at  all,  but  if  she  had  gotta  gun  I  reckon 
she  woulda  shot  Fernandez.  She  just  grabs  this  guy 
Maloney  and  pushes  him  towards  the  door. 

Fernandez  looks  over  at  them  as  they  are  goin'  out 
an'  laughs — he  has  gotta  nasty  sorta  cackle. 

"Take  that  sap  away  an'  lose  him,"  he  says. 

Henrietta  turns  around.  She  is  as  white  as  death. 
She  is  so  burned  up  she  don't  know  what  to  do  with 
herself.  Fernandez  looks  at  her  an'  grins.  Then  he 
walks  over  to  her  an'  before  she  knows  what  he  is 
goin'  to  do  he  kisses  her  right  on  the  mouth. 

"Run  along,  sister,"  he  says,  "an'  don't  get  het  up 
because  it  won't  get  you  no  place." 

48 


HENRIETTA 

He  comes  back  to  the  table. 

"Now  maybe  we  can  get  ahead,"  he  says,  pickin'  up 
the  cards.  The  other  guys,  four  of  'em  at  the  big  table, 
get  set.  They  are  goin'  to  play  poker. 

"Are  you  comin'  in?"  says  Fernandez  to  me. 

I  nod. 

"Yeah,"  I  tell  him,  "but  justa  minute.  I  gotta  do 
something." 

I  turn  around  and  go  outa  the  room.  I  can  see 
Henrietta  takin'  the  Maloney  bird  into  a  room  way 
down  along  the  balcony.  I  ease  along  there  an'  look 
through  the  door.  She  has  put  Maloney  on  a  couch, 
an'  she  is  in  the  corner  gettin'  a  basin  of  water  ready. 
Maloney  don't  look  so  good. 

I  go  in. 

"Say,  sister,"  I  start,  "I  guess  your  boy  friend  got 
a  raw  deal.  Maybe  he  ain't  in  fightin'  trim  tonight. 
He  certainly  can  take  it." 

She  goes  over  to  Maloney  an'  starts  dabbin*  his  face 
with  a  towel. 

"I  wish  I  was  a  man,"  she  says.  "I'd  kill  Fernandez." 
She  stops  work  an'  turns  round  an'  looks  at  me.  Her 
eyes  are  flashin'  an'  she  looks  good.  I  always  did  like 
dames  with  tempers.  "Jim  here  would  have  smashed 
him  to  bits,"  she  goes  on,  "but  he  can't  use  his  arm 
properly.  He  broke  it  six  weeks  ago  and  it's  not  work- 
ing properly  yet.  It  was  easy  for  that  moron  to  be 
tough." 

Maloney  starts  comin'  up  for  air.  He  struggles  to 
get  off  the  couch,  but  he  can't  make  it.  He  falls  back. 

"Let  me  get  at  that  .  .  ."  he  mutters. 

I  do  a  bit  of  quick  thinkin'.  I  think  that  maybe  I 
can  do  myself  a  good  turn  by  gettin'  next  to  this 

49 


DAMES      DO NT      CARE 

Henrietta  in  a  big  way.  Maybe  if  I  play  my  cards 
right  she  will  talk,  an'  it  looks  as  if  this  is  the  oppor- 
tunity. 

"Don't  worry,  Maloney,"  I  say.  "You  never  had  a 
chance  with  that  arm,  an'  he  caught  you  off  balance." 
I  look  at  Henrietta.  "I  was  feelin'  pretty  burned  up 
myself  when  that  lousy  bum  went  over  an'  kissed  you 
like  that,"  I  go  on.  "That  was  a  pretty  insultin'  thing 
to  do  in  a  room  full  of  guys." 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  says.  "Well,  I  didn't  see  you  doing 
anything  about  it." 

I  smile. 

"Listen,  lady,"  I  tell  her.  "When  you  got  your  friend 
here  all  fixed,  just  come  along  back  to  the  card  room,  an' 
you  an'  me'll  have  a  little  talk  with  this  Fernandez  guy." 

I  scram. 

I  go  back  to  the  card  room.  They  are  waitin'  for  me. 
Fernandez  grunts  like  he  is  impatient  to  begin,  an'  I 
sit  down  an'  ante  up. 

We  start  to  play  poker.  They  are  playin'  ten  dollar 
rises  which  is  quite  big  enough  for  me,  but  I  am  not 
doing  badly  in  the  first  coupla  hands.  I  win.  I  look 
at  Fernandez  an'  grin  like  I  was  sorta  pleased  with 
myself.  He  gives  me  a  big  scowl. 

We  go  on.  There  is  a  round  of  jackpots  an'  finally 
Fernandez  opens  it.  He  opens  it  for  fifty  dollars  an' 
everybody  plays.  There  is  about  two  hundred  an* 
fifty  dollars  in  the  pot.  While  we  are  drawin'  cards  I 
hear  Henrietta  come  into  the  room.  She  comes  an' 
stands  just  by  where  I  am  sittin'. 

Fernandez  bets.  He  bets  a  hundred.  The  other  guys 
throw  their  cards  in.  I  stay  in.  I  reckon  he  is  bluffin' 
an'  I  am  goin'  all  out  on  my  two  pairs. 

50 


HENRIETTA 

I  see  him.  I  was  right.  He  has  got  two  pairs  sixes 
high  an'  I  am  tens  high. 

I  scoop  in  the  pool. 

"You  oughta  learn  to  play  this  game,  sucker,"  I  tell 
him. 

He  looks  up. 

"An'  what  did  you  call  me?"  he  says. 

I  get  up.  I  put  my  hands  under  the  table  ledge  an'  I 
throw  the  table  over,  sideways.  This  leaves  a  space 
between  me  an'  Fernandez.  I  jump  in.  As  he  puts  his 
arms  up  I  drop  my  head  an'  give  it  to  him  under  the 
chin.  As  he  goes  back  I  follow  with  a  left  an'  right  an' 
I  connect  on  each  side  of  his  jaw.  I  stand  off  an'  wait 
for  him  to  come  in.  He  does,  but  he  is  a  bit  shook  an* 
I  sidestep  an'  smash  him  one  on  the  nose  that  busts  the 
works  properly.  He  goes  down,  an'  while  he  is  goin' 
I  call  him  by  an  old-fashioned  name.  This  sorta  riles 
him.  He  gets  up,  an'  he  comes  for  me  like  a  bull.  I 
sink  my  head  an'  he  gets  it  in  the  guts.  He  brings  his 
knee  up  but  I  miss  it  an'  hit  him  again  in  the  stomach. 
This  hurts  him  plenty,  an'  he  goes  up  against  the  wall. 
I  go  after  him  an'  I  paste  him.  I  get  to  work  on  this 
guy  like  I  have  never  worked  on  anybody  before. 
Once  or  twice  he  tries  to  make  a  come-back,  but  he  is 
not  so  good.  The  one  I  gave  him  on  the  mark  has 
finished  him  for  a  bit. 

Eventually  he  is  just  leaning  up  against  the  wall  an' 
I  smack  him  down.  He  stays  put  on  the  floor.  I  look 
at  Periera.  He  don't  look  so  pleased  now. 

"Listen,  Periera,"  I  say.  "You  take  this  punk  tough 
guy  outa  here  before  he  gets  me  really  annoyed.  Be- 
cause I  am  a  guy  who  is  liable  to  hurt  somebody 
some  time.  But  maybe  I  will  do  the  job  myself." 

51 


DAMES      DON'T      CARE 

Periera  don't  say  nothin'.  I  get  hold  of  Fernandez 
by  the  collar.  I  yank  him  up  an*  I  take  him  over  to 
Henrietta. 

"Tell  the  lady  you're  sorry,  punk,"  I  say,  "because  if 
you  don't  I'm  goin'  to  smack  it  out  of  you.  Get  busy." 

Just  to  help  him  along  I  flatten  his  nose — v/hich  is 
not  so  well  anyhow,  with  my  thumb. 

He  comes  across,  an'  says  his  stuff. 

I  take  him  outside  to  the  top  of  the  stairs  leadin' 
down  to  the  dance  floor  an'  I  kick  him  down.  He 
bounces  considerable.  When  he  gets  to  the  bottom  he 
sits  up  like  he  was  tryin'  to  remember  what  his 
first  name  was. 

I  go  back. 

"Listen,  Periera,"  I  say.  "Where  does  this  guy  Ma- 
loney  live?" 

He  says  he  lives  in  some  dump  near  Indio,  so  I  tell 
him  to  get  out  a  car  an'  drive  Maloney  home.  He  looks 
like  he  is  goin'  to  object  but  he  thinks  better  of  it.  I 
tell  him  that  he  had  better  take  the  Fernandez  bird  off 
as  well,  an'  he  says  all  right. 

I  turn  around  to  Henrietta.  There  is  a  little  smile 
in  her  eye.  I  give  her  a  big  wink. 

"Get  your  wrap,  sister,"  I  tell  her.  "You  an'  me  is 
goin'  to  do  a  little  drivin'.  I  wanna  talk  to  you." 

She  looks  at  me  an*  she  laughs. 

"You've  got  your  nerve,  Mr.  Frayme,"  she  says. 


52 


CHAPTER   IV 

PORTRAIT    OF   A    "G"    MAN 

SITTIN'  in  the  car,  drivin'  easy  with  Henrietta  smokin* 
a  cigarette  an'  lookin'  straight  ahead  in  front  of  her,  I 
was  feelin'  pretty  good.  I  was  thinkin'  that  if  there 
wasn't  so  much  crime  mixed  up  with  this  "G"  business 
it  would  be  a  swell  sorta  job. 

After  a  bit  I  ask  her  if  she  wants  to  go  any  place  in 
particular,  an'  she  says  no,  but  that  if  we  keep  ahead  an* 
take  a  turn  right  pretty  soon  we  will  come  to  some  dump 
where  they  are  open  all  night  an'  that  she  guesses  that 
we  might  as  well  drink  some  coffee  while  we  are  talkin*. 

I  take  a  peek  at  her  sideways,  an'  I'm  tellin'  you  that 
this  dame  is  certainly  the  goods.  She  has  got  that 
peculiar  sort  of  way  of  talkin'  an'  doin'  everything  that 
gets  you  guessin'.  Most  dames  woulda  been  hot  to  know 
what  I  wanted  to  talk  to  'em  about,  but  this  Hen- 
rietta just  don't  ask  a  thing.  She  sits  there  lookin' 
straight  ahead  with  them  sapphire  blue  eyes  of  hers, 
an'  a  little  smile  playin'  around  her  mouth.  She  gets 
me  curious  because  she  don't  seem  very  interested  in 
anything  much — not  even  herself — an'  there  ain't  many 
dames  like  that. 

Pretty  soon  we  come  to  the  intersection  that  she  has 
talked  about  an'  we  turn  right.  Away  ahead  I  can  see 
the  lights  of  this  place  where  we  are  goin'  to  get 
coffee.  I  slow  down  a  bit  because  I  want  to  put  in  a 
spot  of  thinkin'  myself  about  what  spiel  I  am  goin'  to 
pull  on  this  Henrietta.  I  decide  that  I  have  gotta  tell 

53 

A- 

M^YF 

*. 


DAMES      DONT      CARE 

her  some  sorta  stuff  that  is  liable  to  make  her  open  up 
an'  yet  I  have  also  got  to  keep  who  I  am  an'  what 
I  am  doin'  around  here  under  cover.  However,  I 
have  always  found  that  if  you  are  goin'  to  tell  a  fairy 
story  you  might  as  well  make  it  a  good  one,  so  I  get  busy 
thinkin'  about  the  idea  that  I  am  goin'  to  pull  on  her, 
after  which  I  step  on  the  gas  an'  we  travel  plenty. 

Suddenly  she  starts  talkin'. 

"I  think  that  was  a  swell  job  you  did  on  Fernandez, 
Mr.  Frayme,"  she  says,  lookin'  at  me  outa  the  corner 
of  her  eye.  "He  thinks  he's  tough.  But  maybe  he'll 
alter  his  opinion  after  that  little  session  he  had  with 
you." 

"That  wasn't  nothin',"  I  tell  her.  "Anyhow,  I  don't 
like  this  Fernandez.  He  looks  to  me  like  a  punk,  an' 
I  didn't  like  to  see  him  bustin'  your  boy  friend  about. 
He  looks  a  regular  guy  that  Maloney  bird." 

"He's  pretty  good,"  she  says,  "I  like  him." 

I  pull  up  an'  she  stops  talkin'. 

We  go  in  this  place.  It  is  the  usual  one  story  adobe 
building  with  a  few  tables  stuck  around  an'  a  wop  who 
is  half-asleep  takin'  coffee  to  a  coupla  odd  guys  who  are 
sittin'  at  a  table.  Besides  these  there  ain't  any  one  else 
there. 

We  sit  down  an'  I  order  some  coffee.  I  give  her  a 
cigarette,  an'  when  I  have  lit  it  she  holds  it  up  an'  looks 
at  the  smoke  curlin'  up. 

"I'm  afraid  that  you  won't  be  very  popular  with 
Fernandez  after  this,  Mr.  Frayme,"  she  says,  "and  what 
he  is  going  to  do  about  me  I  don't  know.  .  .  ." 

I  ask  her  what  she  means  by  that  crack. 

She  laughs,  an'  I  can  see  her  little  teeth  gleamin'. 

"Fernandez  wants  me  to  marry  him,"  she  says.  "He 

54 


PORTRAIT       OF       A  G  "       MAN 

thinks  he's  madly  in  love  with  me,  but  what  he'll 
think  tomorrow  after  he's  had  a  little  facial  treatment 
and  got  rid  of  some  of  the  black  eyes  and  bruises,  I 
don't  know." 

"Well,  well,  well,"  I  say,  "an*  here  was  I  thinkin' 
that  you  was  stuck  on  this  Maloney.  You  don't  really 
mean  to  say  that  you  would  consider  hitchin'  up  with 
a  bird  like  that  Fernandez,"  I  tell  her. 

She  smiles  again.   She  certainly  is  a  mysterious  dame. 

"I  don't  know  what  I  think,"  she  says.  "Maybe  I'll 
have  to  marry  Fernandez."  She  looks  at  me  an'  she 
gives  a  little  laugh.  "Don't  let's  worry  about  him  just 
now,"  she  says.  "You  tell  me  what  you  want  to  talk 
to  me  about." 

The  wop  brings  the  coffee  an'  it  smells  good  to  me. 
When  she  lifts  up  her  cup  her  wrap  falls  off  her 
shoulders  an'  I  see  that  she  has  gotta  pair  of  shoulders 
that  mighta  been  copied  off  this  dame  Venus  that  you 
probably  heard  about,  an'  who  seems  to  have  started 
plenty  trouble  in  her  time.  Henrietta  sees  me  lookin' 
an'  she  gives  me  a  sorta  whimsical  look  like  you  would 
give  a  kid  who  was  bein'  naughty,  an'  I  begin  thinkin' 
that  this  dame  has  gotta  way  with  her  that  I  could 
go  nuts  about  if  I  was  a  guy  who  went  nuts  about  the 
shape  of  dames'  shoulders,  which  is  a  thing  I  would 
probably  do,  only  just  when  I  am  getting  good  an' 
interested  in  things  like  that  I  get  sent  off  to  the  other 
end  of  the  country  on  some  bum  case  or  other. 

"Well,  here  we  go,  I  think  to  myself,  an'  I  start  in  on 
the  spiel  I  have  thought  up  in  the  car  while  I  was 
drivin'  to  this  dump. 

"Look,  lady,"  I  tell  her,  "this  is  the  way  it  is:  I  work 
for  a  firm  of  New  York  attorneys  who  have  got  a 

55 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

branch  office  in  Magdalena,  Mexico,  that  I  run  for  'em. 
Well,  a  month  or  so  ago  I  am  in  New  York  on  some 
business  an*  I  get  around  with  a  guy  who  is  workin' 
in  the  District  Attorney's  office  there.  This  guy  starts 
tellin'  me  about  your  husband  Granworth  Aymes 
bumpin'  himself  off  last  January  an'  he  tells  me  that 
they  have  got  some  interestin'  new  evidence  an*  that 
they  think  they  may  reopen  this  case." 

I  stop  talkin'  an'  start  drinkin'  my  coffee.  Over  the 
top  of  the  cup  I  am  watchin'  her.  I  can  see  that  her 
fingers  holdin'  the  cigarette  are  tremblin'  an'  she  has 
gone  plenty  white  round  the  mouth.  It  don't  look  to  me 
that  what  I  have  just  said  has  pleased  her  any. 

She  takes  a  pull  at  herself  but  when  she  begins  to 
talk  her  voice  ain't  so  low  as  it  was  before.  There  is  a 
spot  of  excitement  in  it. 

"That's  very  interesting,"  she  says.  "What  new 
evidence  could  they  find.  I  didn't  know  there  was  any 
question  about  my  husband's  suicide.  I  thought  it  was 
all  over  and  finished  with." 

She  stubs  out  the  cigarette  end  on  an  ashtray.  By 
this  time  she  has  got  hold  of  herself.  I  put  my  cup  down 
an'  give  her  another  cigarette  an'  light  one  for  myself. 

"You  see  it's  this  way,"  I  go  on.  "This  guy  in  the 
D.A.'s  office  tells  me  that  they  have  discovered  that  you 
wasn't  in  Connecticut  on  the  night  that  Granworth 
Aymes  is  supposed  to  have  bumped  himself  off.  They 
have  found  out  that  you  was  in  New  York  an'  another 
thing  is  that  they  have  gotta  big  idea  that  the  last  person 
to  see  Granworth  Aymes  before  he  died  was  you,  see?" 

"I  see,"  she  says.  Her  voice  is  sorta  dull,  the  life  has 
gone  out  of  it. 

"These  guys  get  all  sorts  of  funny  ideas  in  their 

56 


PORTRAIT      OF      A      "  G          MAN 

heads,"  I  say,  "but  you  know  what  cops  an'  district 
attorneys  are.  They  just  gotta  try  an'  hang  something 
on  somebody.  They  wouldn't  be  doin'  the  job  they  do 
if  they  didn't  like  pullin'  people  in. 

"You  see  it  looks  like  somebody  has  dropped  a  hint 
around  there  that  Granworth  Aymes  didn't  commit 
suicide.  That  he  was  bumped  off." 

She  flicks  the  ash  off  her  cigarette. 

"That  seems  ridiculous  to  me,  Mr.  Frayme,"  she  says. 
"The  watchman  on  Cotton's  Wharf  testified  that  he 
saw  Granworth  drive  the  car  over  the  wharf.  That 
looks  like  suicide  .  .  .  doesn't  it?" 

"Yeah,"  I  tell  her,  "that's  O.K.,  but  I  gotta  tell  you 
what  happened.  This  guy  in  the  D.A.'s  office  tells  me 
that  they  got  information  that  you  slipped  a  counter- 
feit registered  Federal  bond  over  at  the  bank  here,  an'  of 
course  that  was  reported  to  the  Federal  Government. 
The  Feds,  evidently  put  a  'G'  man  on  the  job,  an'  this 
guy  gets  around  in  New  York  an'  he  grills  this  watch- 
man on  Cotton's  Wharf  an'  after  a  bit  he  gets  the  whole 
truth  about  this  business.  What  the  watchman  said 
he  saw  an'  what  he  really  saw  is  two  different  things, 
believe  me,  lady,  because  the  watchman  tells  this  'G' 
man  that  he  saw  Granworth  Aymes'  car  drive  slowly 
down  the  wharf,  an'  that  when  it  was  halfway  down 
an'  in  the  shadow  the  off-side  door  opens  an'  some- 
body gets  out.  He  can't  see  who  it  is,  but  he  can  see  it's 
a  woman.  He  sees  her  turn  around  an'  lean  inside  the 
car  an'  then  shut  the  door.  The  car  starts  off  again, 
gathers  speed,  bounces  off  a  wooden  pile  an'  goes  right 
over  the  edge  into  the  river." 

"I  see,"  she  says.  "And  why  didn't  the  watchman 
tell  this  story?" 

57 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

I  grin. 

"He  had  a  reason,  lady,"  I  tell  her.  "A  damn  good 
reason.  He  kept  his  mouth  shut  about  that  little  in- 
cident because  a  certain  guy  by  the  name  of  Langdon 
Burdell — a  guy  who  was  your  husband's  secretary — 
gave  him  one  thousand  dollars  to  forget  everything 
except  seeing  the  car  bounce  off  the  pile  an'  go  over  the 
edge." 

She  looks  at  me  as  if  she  had  been  struck  by  lightning. 

"It  looks  like  this  Burdell  guy  is  pretty  friendly 
towards  you,"  I  tell  her,  "because  when  this  'G'  man 
had  seen  him  previously  he  said  that  you  wasn't  in 
New  York  that  night,  you  was  in  Connecticut,  an'  it 
looks  as  if  he  not  only  said  that  but  that  the  night  after 
the  death  he  had  scrammed  down  and  bribed  the  watch- 
man good  an*  plenty  to  keep  his  mouth  shut  about 
that  woman. 

"Well,  what  does  that  look  like?"  I  say.  "It  looks  like 
Granworth  Aymes  mighta  been  dead  an'  stuck  in  that 
car.  It  looks  like  the  woman  mighta  been  drivin'  it, 
don't  it?" 

She  don't  say  anything  for  a  minute.  I  see  her  wet 
her  lips  with  her  tongue.  She  is  takin'  this  stuff  pretty 
well,  but  she  is  frightened,  I  reckon.  But  she  soon  gets 
'a  hold  of  herself  again. 

"If  Granworth  were  killed  they  could  have  discovered 
it  at  the  post  mortem,"  she  says. 

"Maybe,"  I  tell  her,  "an'  maybe  not.  But  the  guy 
in  the  D.A.'s  office  tells  me  that  Granworth  was 
smashed  up  through  the  fall  into  the  river.  Remember 
when  that  car  hit  bottom  he  banged  plenty  hard  against 
the  wind  shield.  His  head  was  all  smashed  in,  but  that 
mighta  been  done  before  he  was  put  in  the  car." 

58 


PORTRAIT      OF      A      "  G          MAN 

"I  don't  understand  any  of  this,"  she  says.  "And  I 
don't  understand  why  Langdon  Burdell  should  have 
bribed  the  watchman  to  tell  some  story  that  was  not  the 
truth.  Why  should  he  do  that?" 

"Search  me,  lady,"  I  tell  her.  "But  I  expect  that  the 
D.A.'s  office  can  find  that  out  if  they  wanta  start  gettin' 
funny  with  somebody." 

I  ask  her  if  she  would  like  some  more  coffee,  an'  she 
says  yes,  so  I  order  it.  While  we  are  waitin'  for  it  to 
come  I  am  keepin'  a  quiet  eye  on  Henrietta  an'  I  can  see 
she  is  doin'  some  very  deep  thinkin',  which  don't  sur- 
prise me  because  it  looks  like  I  have  given  her  some- 
thing to  think  about. 

When  the  coffee  comes  she  drinks  it  as  if  she  was 
glad  to  have  something  to  do.  Then  she  puts  the  cup 
down  an'  looks  straight  at  me. 

"I'm  wondering  why  you  took  the  trouble  to  tell  me 
all  this,  Mr.  Frayme,"  she  says.  "What  was  in  your 
mind?  What  did  you  expect  me  to  do?" 

"It  ain't  what's  in  my  mind,  Henrietta,"  I  tell  her. 
"Its  what's  in  the  mind  of  these  guys  in  the  New  York 
D.A.'s  office.  The  thing  is  this.  My  friend  who  works 
there  says  that  nobody  gave  a  damn  about  whether 
Granworth  Aymes  committed  suicide  or  not  until  this 
counterfeit  business  turned  up.  The  investigation  was 
all  over  an'  everything  was  tied  up  an'  put  away,  an' 
then  this  registered  Federal  bond  thing  happens.  Well, 
that's  a  Federal  job,  an'  the  *G'  people  at  Washington 
have  made  up  their  minds  good  an'  plenty  to  find  out 
who  it  was  faked  those  phoney  bonds.  If  they  can 
find  that  out  everything's  hunky  dory  an'  they  ain't 
likely  to  worry  about  anything  else. 

"When  I  went  to  the  Hacienda  Altmira  last  night 

59 


DAMES      DO  NT      CARE 

that  guy  Sagers,  the  feller  who  was  workin'  there  an' 
who  was  leavin'  for  Arispe  today,  told  me  you  was 
Mrs.  Henrietta  Aymes,  an'  I  made  up  my  mind  to  tell 
you  about  this  business,  an'  here's  why: 

"Supposin'  for  the  sake  of  argument  you  know 
somethin'  about  this  counterfeitin'.  Supposin'  you  know 
who  fixed  it.  Well,  if  I  was  you  I'd  come  across.  Slip 
me  the  works.  Then,  when  I  go  back  to  New  York 
I  can  hand  the  information  quietly  to  my  pal  in  the 
D.A.'s  office  an'  if  it's  good  enough  for  them  to  pass 
on  to  the  1G'  people  at  Washington  an*  satisfy  their 
curiosity,  well,  I  don't  guess  they'll  want  to  re-open  that 
case  about  your  husband. 

"You  see  these  guys  think  that  you  must  know 
something  about  that  counterfeitin'.  An'  if  you  don't 
come  across  with  some  information,  it's  a  cinch  that 
they'll  re-open  the  business  about  your  husband's  death 
just  so  that  they  got  something  to  pin  on  to  you  that 
will  make  you  talk.  See?" 

"I  see,"  she  says,  "but  I've  no  information  to  give 
any  one.  The  package  of  Federal  bonds  which  I  brought 
with  me  out  here  was  taken  from  my  husband's  safe 
deposit  where  I  kept  them.  I  understood  from  Mr. 
Burdell  that  the  safe  deposit  was  opened  with  the  key 
taken  from  my  husband's  dead  body  by  his  lawyer,  who 
handed  them  to  me.  That  is  all  I  know.  As  for  their 
re-opening  the  question  of  my  husband's  death  and  the 
suggestion  that  I  was  in  New  York  on  that  night,  well, 
they'll  have  to  prove  that,  won't  they?" 

"Yeah.  I  suppose  they  will,"  I  tell  her.  I  am  thinking 
that  all  the  proof  wanted  is  in  the  three  letters  from  her 
to  Granworth  that  I  have  got  stored  away  in  the  safe  at 
the  Miranda  House. 

60 


PORTRAIT      OF      A      "  G          MAN 

"Anyhow  it  was  very  nice  of  you  to  give  me  this 
warning,"  she  says.  "It  seems  that  I  have  a  lot  to  thank 
you  for,  Mr.  Frayme,  and  now,  if  you  don't  mind  I 
think  I'll  be  getting  back." 

We  go  out  an'  get  into  the  car  an'  I  drive  back.  I 
make  out  that  I  do  not  know  where  she  is  living  an'  she 
tells  me  the  way.  I  drop  her  at  the  door,  an'  I  wonder 
how  she  will  feel  when  she  finds  out  that  somebody  nas 
pinched  those  three  letters — three  letters  that  may  spell 
a  bundle  of  trouble  for  this  dame. 

She  says  good  night.  She  gets  outa  the  car  an*  she 
walks  up  to  the  door  of  the  rancho.  When  she  gets 
there  she  looks  back  at  me  an'  smiles. 

I  decide  Henrietta  has  got  nerve  all  right. 

I  start  the  car  up  an'  I  just  drive  along.  I  don't  take 
any  notice  of  where  I  am  goin'  because  I  am  busy 
turnin'  over  in  my  mind  what  she  has  said.  By  an'  large 
she  seems  to  be  takin'  this  business  pretty  calm. 

There  is  one  or  two  things  that  I  cannot  understand 
about  this  Henrietta.  I  cannot  understand  why  she 
made  that  crack  about  havin*  to  marry  Fernandez,  an' 
I  certainly  cannot  understand  why  she  kept  the  three 
letters  she  wrote  to  Granworth — the  letters  that  prove 
she  saw  him  on  the  night  he  died — instead  of  gettin' 
rid  of  'em  pronto. 

But  I  don't  think  that  she  knows  anything  about 
Sagers  bein'  bumped  off.  When  I  brought  his  name  up 
an'  said  that  he  was  the  guy  who  was  leavin'  for  Arispe 
I  was  watchin'  her  like  a  cat  watches  a  mouse  an'  she 
never  batted  an  eyelid. 

An'  I  decide  she  has  got  enough  nerve  to  have 
bumped  off  Aymes.  Let's  do  a  bit  of  supposin'.  Let's 
suppose  she  goes  back  to  New  York  after  writin'  the 

61 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

letters  because  she  has  made  up  her  mind  to  have  a 
show  down  with  Granworth  about  this  woman  who 
he  is  supposed  to  be  runnin'  around  with.  Maybe  Gran- 
worth  meets  her  some  place  in  his  car,  because  when 
I  talked  to  Burdell  about  it  when  I  was  in  New  York 
before  I  come  down  here,  he  tells  me  that  Aymes  left 
the  office  to  "meet  some  people"  an'  he  was  lookin' 
a  bit  excited.  Maybe  he  was  goin'  to  meet  Henrietta. 
All  right,  well,  they  meet  an'  they  have  one  helluva 
row.  It  might  be  possible  too,  that  in  between  whiles 
she  has  discovered  that  the  Federal  bonds  he  gave  her 
was  phoney.  So  what?  Aymes  is  sittin'  in  the  drivin' 
seat  of  the  car  in  some  quiet  place  an'  she  smashes  him 
one  over  the  head  with  a  gun-butt  or  something  an' 
knocks  him  out.  Then  she  has  an  idea.  She  remembers 
how  he  tried  this  suicide  business  once  before  in  the  East 
River,  an'  she  thinks  she  can  pull  a  fast  one.  She  shoves 
him  outa  the  drivin'  seat  an'  pushes  him  over  in  front 
of  the  passenger  seat.  Then  she  gets  in  an'  drives  round 
by  the  back  way  until  she  gets  to  Cotton's  Wharf  which 
is  pretty  deserted.  She  don't  see  the  watchman  standin' 
at  the  end  of  the  wharf.  She  gets  out,  leavin'  the  engine 
runnin',  turns  the  wheels  so  that  the  car  is  pointin'  to 
the  edge  of  the  wharf,  leans  over  an'  presses  the  clutch 
pedal  down  with  her  hand  an'  shoves  the  gear  lever  into 
gear.  Then,  as  the  car  moves  she  stands  away  an'  shuts 
the  door.  This  would  account  for  the  car  runnin'  into 
the  wooden  pile  before  it  bounced  into  the  river. 

I  decide  she  coulda  done  it  that  way,  an'  I  think 
she  has  got  the  nerve.  The  fact  that  she's  pretty  don't 
mean  a  thing.  I  have  known  pretty  janes  bump  guys 
off  before — an'  get  clean  away  with  it  too. 

I  have  been  drivin'  back  along  the  road  nice  an'  easy, 

62 


PORTRAIT       OF       A  G  MAN 

an*  away  in  front  of  me  in  the  moonlight  I  can  see  the 
white  walls  of  the  Hacienda  Altmira.  I  wonder  if 
Periera  has  delivered  this  guy  Fernandez  back  where  he 
lives,  an'  I  wonder  how  the  Maloney  bird  is  feelin'.  It 
looks  like  this  Maloney  has  fallen  for  Henrietta.  I 
could  tell  by  the  way  he  was  lookin'  at  her  earlier  in 
the  evenin'.  He's  got  that  sorta  nutty  look  that  a  guy 
gets  when  he  starts  gettin'  excited  about  a  jane,  an' 
I  am  thinkin'  that  he'd  better  watch  his  step  with 
Henrietta.  I  guess  she  could  play  him  for  a  sucker  too, 
if  she  wanted  to.  Maybe  she's  playin'  him  off  against 
Fernandez — you  never  know  with  dames. 

I  drive  past  the  front  of  the  Hacienda  an'  turn  around 
an*  run  pretty  slowly  past  the  back.  I  start  gettin' 
curious,  and  wonderin'  whether  they  have  took  Sagers 
outa  the  ice  safe  yet  an'  buried  him  some  place  in  the 
desert.  I  decide  that  was  done  early  yesterday  mornin'. 

An'  for  some  reason  that  I  don't  know  I  think  I 
would  like  to  have  a  look.  I  sorta  get  a  hunch  about 
this,  an'  when  I  get  a  hunch  I  always  play  it. 

I  stop  the  car  behind  some  old  broken  down  adobe 
wall  that  runs  away  from  the  end  of  the  garage,  an' 
I  look  up  at  the  windows  an'  case  the  place.  I  can't  see 
any  lights  an'  I  can't  hear  anything.  I  keep  in  the 
shadows  an'  I  get  around  by  the  wall  until  I  come  to 
the  windows  on  the  side  of  the  dance  floor  an'  in  about 
two  minutes  I  am  inside. 

The  place  is  dark,  but  there  are  big  patches  of  moon- 
light here  an'  there.  I  listen  but  I  can't  hear  anything, 
an'  I  ease  over  to  the  bar,  get  over  it,  an'  start  workin' 
on  the  door  of  the  store  room  behind  the  bar.  I  get  this 
open  an'  go  in.  After  I  have  closed  the  door  I  switch 
on  the  flash  that  I  have  brought  outa  the  car  an'  go 

63 


DAMES      DO  NT      CARE 

over  to  the  ice  safes.  I  look  in  'em  both  an'  I  see  that 
Sagers  is  gone.  I  thought  he  would  be,  because  whoever 
bumped  him  off  would  get  him  moved  before  the  club 
opened  again. 

Over  on  a  shelf  in  the  corner  is  some  bottles.  I  go 
over  an'  look  at  'em,  an'  I  see  one  is  a  bottle  of  tequila 
that  has  been  opened.  I  sit  down  on  a  box  an'  take  a 
swig  at  this  bottle,  an'  although  the  stuff  is  damn  strong 
it  is  better  than  no  drink  at  all. 

I  sit  there  with  this  bottle  in  my  hand  flashin'  the 
torch  around  an'  wonderin'  why  I  had  this  hunch  about 
comin'  back  to  see  if  they'd  moved  Sagers.  I  mighta 
known  they  woulda  done  this.  While  I  am  thinkin' 
about  this  the  light  flashes  on  a  garbage  can  in  the 
corner.  Stickin'  out  from  under  the  lid  is  what  looks 
like  the  corner  of  a  letter.  I  go  over  an'  take  the  lid  off 
an'  start  lookin'  at  the  rubbish  inside.  There  is  all  sorts 
of  junk  in  this  can,  an'  I  turn  it  over  with  my  foot. 

All  of  a  sudden  I  turn  over  what  looks  like  a  photo- 
graph that  has  been  torn  in  two.  I  take  the  two  pieces 
out  an'  put  them  together.  The  picture  has  been  cut 
out  of  a  newspaper  an'  underneath  it  I  can  see  the 
caption  is  unclear  because  it  has  been  folded  over. 

I  take  this  picture  back  to  the  box  an'  sit  down  an' 
have  a  look  at  it  under  the  flash.  I  get  a  sorta  idea  that 
I  have  seen  this  guy  in  the  picture  before.  Then  do  I  get 
a  start?  I  am  lookin'  at  a  picture  of  myself  cut  out  of 
a  newspaper.  I  straighten  out  the  caption  an'  read  it. 
It  says  "Portrait  of  a  CG'  man.  Exclusive  picture  of 
Lemuel  H.  Caution,  the  Federal  Agent  who  brought 
in  the  Yelltz  kidnappers." 

Then  I  remember.  This  was  a  picture  of  me  published 
in  the  Chicago  Times  two  years  ago  after  the  Yelltz 

64 


PORTRAIT       OF       A       "  G  MAN 

case.  I  remember  how  burned  up  I  was  at  havin'  my 
face  in  a  newspaper  so's  every  damn  crook  would  know 
me  on  sight. 

Round  at  the  side  of  the  picture  on  the  plain  edge  of 
the  newspaper  is  some  writin'.  I  look  at  it  close.  It 
says,  "This  is  the  guy." 

I  get  it.  Now  I  am  beginnin'  to  understand  a  thing 
or  two.  It  looks  like  somebody  has  sent  this  picture  of 
me  along  here,  an'  has  written  on  it  "This  is  the  guy" 
so's  somebody  would  know  me  when  I  got  here.  I 
decide  that  somebody  back  in  New  York,  who  knew  I 
had  been  put  on  this  case  sends  this  picture  along  here 
so  that  the  guys  at  this  end  will  know  that  something  is 
goin'  to  happen. 

An'  that  is  why  they  killed  Sagers!  It  hits  me  like  a 
bullet.  When  I  blew  into  the  Hacienda  Altmira  the  first 
time  they  knew  who  I  was.  They  was  wise  to  my  act 
with  Sagers.  So  they  guessed  he  was  workin'  with  me, 
an'  when  he  told  'em  that  night  that  he  was  scrammin' 
to  Arispe  like  we  arranged,  they  bumped  him  off.  They 
thought  he  might  know  a  bit  more  than  he  did  an'  they 
aren't  takin'  any  chances. 

An'  if  they'll  bump  off  Sagers,  well,  I  reckon  they  will 
bump  me  off  if  they  get  the  chance. 

I  take  a  spot  more  tequila  an'  start  doin'  a  little  con- 
centratin'.  Who  would  be  the  guy  who  would  get  this 
old  newspaper  an'  cut  the  picture  out  an'  send  it  out  here 
so's  they  would  be  waitin'  for  me.  Wouldn't  it  be  the 
same  guy  who  went  to  the  trouble  of  writin'  me  that 
anonymous  note  in  New  York  so  as  to  get  me  out  here 
after  the  letters  that  Henrietta  had  got?  You  bet. 

This  guy  knows  about  the  letters.  He  fixes  to  get  me 
out  here  after  'em.  In  doin'  this  he  knows  that  he  must 

65 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

be  puttin'  the  idea  in  my  head  that  Henrietta  bumped 
off  Granworth  Aymes,  an'  he  also  takes  the  trouble  to 
send  a  picture  out  to  somebody  here  so's  they'll  know 
I'm  me. 

An'  what  is  the  big  idea  behind  all  this?  Is  it  to  get 
me  out  here  because  it  will  be  easier  to  rub  me  out  in  this 
place — easier  than  anywhere  else? 

I  get  up  off  the  box.  This  counterfeit  case  is  beginnin' 
to  look  sweet  an'  interestin'  to  me.  It  is  gettin'  so  tied  up 
that  in  a  minute  I  shall  think  I  done  it  myself. 

But  way  back  in  my  head  is  an  idea  that  I'm  goin'  to 
work  on.  The  idea  that  it  was  this  secretary  bird  Bur- 
dell  who  sent  me  that  anonymous  letter  so's  I  should  get 
out  here  an'  get  next  to  Henrietta,  an'  maybe  start  some- 
thing that  is  goin'  to  end  up  with  her  bein'  pinched  on  a 
first  degree  murder  charge.  An'  if  I  am  right  about  this 
what  is  he  doin'  it  for?  Is  he  doin*  it  because  he  thinks 
that  he  is  helpin'  justice  that  way  or  because  he's  got 
some  reason  for  wanting  to  put  Henrietta  on  the  spot. 

I  take  another  swig  at  the  tequila  an'  I  put  the  picture 
of  me  back  in  the  garbage  can — which  is  where  a  whole 
lot  of  crooks  would  like  to  see  me  too — an'  I  scram.  I 
get  outside  an'  get  the  car  goin'  an'  I  slide  back  in  the 
direction  of  Palm  Springs,  because  I  think  that  it  is  time 
that  I  got  busy  on  this  case.  I  reckon  that  if  nobody  else 
won't  start  anything  then  I  had  better  myself. 

When  I  get  back  to  the  Miranda  House  I  find 
a  telegraph  waiting  for  me.  It  is  coded  an'  is  in  answer 
to  the  one  I  sent  the  "G"  office  in  New  York  askin'  for 
information  about  the  people  in  Granworth  Aymes' 
employ  at  the  time  of  his  death.  It  says: 

"Aymes  employees  as  follows  stop.   Langdon  Burdell 

66 


PORTRAIT      OF      A      " G          MAN 

secretary  in  service  seven  years  now  carrying  on  Aymes 
business  under  own  name  New  York  stop.  Enrico  Pa- 
lantza  butler  at  apartment  in  service  four  years  present 
location  unknown  stop.  Marie  Therese  Dubuinet  -maid 
to  Mrs.  Henrietta  Aymes  now  in  service  Mrs.  John  Vla- 
ford  New  York  stop.  Juan  Termiglo  chauffeur  service 
three  years  present  location  unknown  stop.  Despatching 
to  you  photographs  Palantza  Dubuinet  and  Termiglo 
within  two  days  stop." 

This  don't  tell  me  very  much  an'  between  you  an'  me 
I  didn't  see  just  then  that  havin'  pictures  of  these  guys 
was  goin'  to  do  me  much  good  neither. 

I  light  a  cigarette  an'  I  do  some  thinkin'.  I  decide 
that  just  for  the  moment  I  ain't  goin'  to  do  much  good 
around  here.  Whether  Henrietta  decides  that  she  is 
goin'  to  hitch  up  with  Maloney  or  Fernandez  ain't  goin' 
to  get  me  no  place. 

Another  thing  is  that  I  wanta  have  a  little  conversa- 
tion with  this  guy  Burdell.  I  bet  he  can  tell  me  a  coupla 
things  I  would  like  to  know,  an'  if  he  can  I  guess  I  am 
comin'  back  to  start  something  good  an'  proper. 

Back  of  my  head  I  have  gotta  big  idea  that  Henrietta 
is  holdin'  out  on  me;  that  she  is  twicin'  me  good  an' 
proper.  There  is  somethin'  about  that  dame's  face  that 
is  very  nice,  but  that  don't  prove  nothin'  at  all. 

I  remember  a  dame  in  Nogales  on  the  Arizona -Mexico 
border.  She  was  a  honey.  This  dame  had  a  face  like  a 
saint  an'  she  spoke  that  way  too.  She  was  Mexican  an' 
she  figured  to  get  some  more  culture  an'  teach  herself 
English  by  readin'  the  History  of  the  Civil  War  to  her 
husband  every  night.  He  was  a  bit  older  than  she  was 
an'  of  a  very  doubtin'  disposition.  While  she  was  readin' 

67 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

the  History  of  the  Civil  War  with  one  hand  she  was 
mixin'  arsenic  in  his  coffee  with  the  other. 

One  day  this  guy  peters  out.  He  gives  a  big  howl  and 
hands  in  his  dinner  pail.  Some  suspicious  dick  pinches 
the  dame  for  murder  although  she  says  it  musta  been 
the  History  of  the  Civil  War  that  give  him  the  pain  in 
his  stomach. 

When  she  goes  for  trial  she  gets  a  hot  lawyer  who 
knows  all  the  answers  an'  he  tells  her  to  put  a  veil  all 
over  her  face  an'  cry  all  the  time  she  is  in  court.  She  is 
lucky.  The  jury  disagree  an'  another  trial  is  ordered. 
This  time  she  gets  another  lawyer.  He  don't  know 
anything  about  law,  but  believe  me  he  knows  his  onions. 
He  gets  her  all  dressed  up  for  the  trial  in  a  skin  tight 
black  lace  dress  an'  flesh  coloured  chiffon  silk  stockings. 
He  sticks  her  on  the  witness  stand  with  a  hand  picked 
jury  of  old  gentlemen  all  over  seventy  an'  they  take  one 
look  at  her  an'  say  not  guilty  without  goin'  outa  the  box. 

The  judge — who  is  also  an  old  cuss — gives  her  the 
once  over  an'  says  he  agrees  with  the  verdict.  After  the 
trial  he  gets  her  a  job  in  the  local  dry  cleaners  an'  the 
way  the  old  boy  used  to  rush  around  every  week  for  his 
laundry  was  just  nobody's  business. 

All  of  which  goes  to  show  you  that  you  never  know 
where  you  are  with  dames — especially  when  they  got 
sex-appeal.  The  more  S.A.  a  dame  has  got  the  more 
trouble  she  causes. 

An'  Henrietta  has  got  sex-appeal  plus.  Boy,  she  has 
everything  it  takes  an'  then  a  lot.  When  I  was  lookin' 
at  her  when  we  was  havin'  that  coffee  I  was  thinkin' 
that  maybe  she  was  like  the  dame  in  Nogales. 

Even  then  I  guess  I  wouldn'ta  minded  bein'  her  hus- 
band. I  just  wouldn'ta  drunk  coffee,  that's  all. 

68 


CHAPTER   V 

NEAT    STUFF 

I  AM  back  in  New  York. 

Maybe  you  think  that  I  am  a  mug  for  takin'  so  much 
trouble  but  the  way  I  look  at  it  is  this: 

It  woulda  been  easy  for  me  to  pinch  Henrietta  on 
suspicion  an'  bring  her  back  here.  I  coulda  got  the 
New  York  police  to  re-open  the  Aymes  inquest  an'  the 
production  of  the  letters  she  wrote  Granworth  woulda 
maybe  justified  it.  But  what  good's  it  gonna  do  if  she 
really  an'  truly  don't  know  anything  about  the  counter- 
feiting an'  even  if  she  did  kill  Aymes  still  you  gotta 
realise  that  I  am  a  Federal  dick  investigatin'  a  counter- 
feitin'  job  an'  not  a  guy  rushin'  around  tryin'  to  teach 
New  York  cops  their  business. 

Besides  which  I  have  gotta  bunch  of  ideas  stewin' 
around  in  my  head.  I  have  gotta  hunch  an'  I'm  goin' 
to  play  it,  an'  that  hunch  certainly  takes  in  this  Langdon 
Burdell  who,  if  you  ask  me,  is  tryin'  to  play  me  for  a 
mug.  You'll  see  why  pretty  soon. 

I  check  in  at  the  airport,  fix  myself  up  in  my  usual 
dump,  have  a  shower  an'  change,  an'  after  just  one  little 
bourbon  just  to  keep  the  germs  away,  I  jump  me  a  yellow 
cab  an'  scram  down  town  to  the  Burdell  office. 

Burdell  is  runnin'  Granworth's  old  business,  an'  is 
in  the  same  office  building. 

I  go  up  in  the  elevator  an'  walk  in.  In  the  outer 
office  there  is  a  fancy  dame  smackin'  a  typewriter  about. 
She  has  got  four  inch  french  heels  an'  a  page-boy  cut 

69 


DAMES       DONT       CARE 

that  woulda  made  Greta  Garbo  look  like  a  big  cheese. 

She  is  wearm'  long  jade  earrings  an'  an  expression 
like  somebody  was  burnin'  cork  under  her  nose  all  the 
time,  an'  when  she  gets  up  from  the  typewriter  as  I  go 
in  she  has  gotta  wiggle  when  she  walks  that  woulda  won 
her  a  beauty  contest  anywhere  where  the  judges'  wives 
weren't  around. 

She  uses  a  beauty  parlor  plenty  by  the  look  of  her 
pan,  an'  she  has  gotta  mouth  made  up  with  a  lipstick 
that  is  about  four  shades  too  light. 

It  is  a  damn  funny  thing  but  I  have  only  found  about 
one  jane  in  sixty-four  ever  uses  the  right  shade  of  lip- 
stick. An'  whenever  I  strike  this  odd  one  she  is  always 
goin'  some  place  or  is  married  or  somethin'  else  that 
don't  help  me  along  any. 

I  tell  her  I  wanta  see  Mr.  Burdell  an'  she  says  he's 
in  but  I'll  have  to  wait  because  he  is  in  conference.  I 
crack  back  that  any  time  I  have  to  wait  to  see  Mr.  Bur- 
dell  I  will  commit  hara-kiri  with  a  tin-opener  an'  I  walk 
straight  into  his  room  which  is  at  the  back  of  the  office 
behind  a  fancy  oak  door. 

Burdell  is  sittin'  behind  a  big  desk  helpin'  himself  to  a 
shot  of  rye  out  of  a  swell  flask. 

He  looks  up  an'  smiles. 

"Pleased  to  see  you,  Mr.  Caution,"  he  says.  "Come 
right  in,  I  ain't  busy." 

I  stick  my  hat  on  a  big  bronze  figure  of  a  boxer  that 
he  is  usin'  as  a  paper  weight,  an'  I  sit  down  in  the  big 
chair  opposite  him  an'  help  myself  to  a  cigarette  out  of 
a  swell  silver  box. 

"Listen,  Burdell,"  I  tell  him.  "I  wanna  talk  to  you, 
an'  I  want  you  to  listen  an'  not  make  any  slip-ups, 
otherwise  I'm  goin'  to  get  very  tough  with  you." 

70 


NEAT      STUFF 

He  looks  surprised.  This  Burdell  guy  is  a  bird  about 
five  feet  four  with  sandy  hair  an'  a  thin  face  like  a 
weasel  with  indigestion.  He  has  got  red  eyes  an'  a  point- 
ed chin.  He  is  one  of  them  guys  who  might  be  good  or 
bad  or  just  nothin'  at  all.  You  just  wouldn't  know  a 
thing  by  lookin'  at  him. 

"Listen  here,"  he  says.  "You  don't  have  to  talk  like 
that,  Mr.  Caution.  I've  always  told  you  anything  you 
wanted  to  know,  ain't  I?" 

"Sure  you  have,"  I  tell  him,  "but  I  wanta  know  some 
more  that's  all.  Now  stay  quiet  an'  listen  to  this. 

"Two  weeks  ago  when  I  get  put  on  this  counterfeitin* 
job  I  come  around  here  an'  I  ask  you  a  lotta  questions. 
Well,  the  main  thing  is  that  you  say  that  you  and  the 
servants  at  the  Aymes  apartments  have  given  evidence 
that  Henrietta  Aymes  wasn't  in  town  the  night  that 
Granworth  bumps  himself  off. 

"O.K.  Well  next  morning  I  get  around  an'  I  talk 
to  this  watchman  down  at  Cotton's  Wharf — the  guy 
who  saw  the  car  go  over  the  edge,  an'  I  grill  this  guy 
plenty.  Finally  he  comes  across  that  the  mornin'  after 
Aymes  killed  himself  you  got  down  there  an'  he  told 
you  that  he  saw  some  woman  get  outa  that  car  way  down 
the  wharf.  He  says  that  you  gave  him  a  thousand  dollars 
to  keep  his  trap  shut  about  that  little  fact,  an'  that  he 
kept  it  shut. 

"O.K.  Three  days  afterwards  I  get  an  anonymous 
note  sayin'  that  I  oughta  go  to  Palm  Springs  an'  check 
up  on  some  letters  that  Henrietta  has  got.  Right,  well 
I  checked  up  an'  I  have  found  them  letters. 

"Now  I  am  very  interested  in  who  the  guy  was  who 
sent  me  that  anonymous  note,  an'  I  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  guy  is  you.  You  sent  it  to  me,  Bur- 

71 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

dell,  an'  you're  goin'  to  tell  me  why,  because  you  are  a 
very  contradictory  sorta  cuss.  First  of  all  you  graft  this 
watchman  to  keep  quiet  about  the  dame;  then  at  the  in- 
quest you  an'  the  servants  say  Henrietta  Aymes  wasn't 
in  town  on  that  night,  an'  a  few  months  afterwards, 
after  I  have  seen  you  an'  heard  one  thing  from  you,  you 
send  me  an  anonymous  letter  that  gets  me  out  to  Palm 
Springs  where  I  find  some  letters  that  might  hang  a 
murder  rap  on  Henrietta.  So  what?  I'm  listenin'  an'  I 
wanta  hear  plenty.  Did  you  write  that  letter?" 

He  looks  serious. 

"Yeah,"  he  says.  "I  wrote  it,  an'  I'm  goin'  to  tell  you 
why,  an'  maybe  when  you've  heard  you'll  understand 
why  I  played  it  like  I  did. 

"You  gotta  get  the  set  up,"  he  says.  "In  the  first 
place  I  knew  Mrs.  Aymes  was  comin'  to  town  to  see 
Granworth  because  I  saw  the  letters  she  wrote.  I  knew 
she  came  to  town  on  the  night  he  died,  but  I  kept  my 
trap  shut  about  it  at  the  inquest,  an'  I  told  the  servants 
at  the  apartment  to  keep  quiet  too,  an'  I'll  tell  you  why. 

"Granworth  Aymes  was  a  lousy  dog.  We  none  of  us 
liked  him,  but  we  liked  her  plenty.  We  knew  he  usta 
play  around  with  a  lotta  janes  an'  that  he  gave  her  a 
raw  deal.  But  when  he  made  that  dough  an'  told  us 
that  he  was  goin'  to  give  two  hundred  grand  in  regis- 
tered Federal  bonds  to  her  I  thought  that  maybe  he  was 
goin'  to  start  over  an'  be  a  good  guy.  I  believe  this  be- 
cause he  acts  that  way,  an'  because  he  takes  out  extra 
insurance  an*  says  he's  goin'  to  be  a  regular  feller. 

"On  the  night  he  died  he  went  outa  this  office  an' 
I  knew  that  later  he  was  goin'  to  meet  up  with  Mrs. 
Aymes  an'  talk  to  her  about  this  dame  that  she  was  so 
burned  up  about.  The  next  thing  I  hear  is  when  the 

72 


NEAT      STUFF 

police  ring  up  the  next  mornin'  an'  say  that  they  have 
fished  Granworth  outa  the  river  an'  want  identification. 
I  go  down  an'  do  it, 

"I  also  knew  that  Mrs.  Aymes  had  gone  back  to  Con- 
necticut late  the  night  before,  because  Granworth  told 
me  she  was  goin'  back  after  she'd  seen  him. 

"Now  I  worked  it  out  this  way.  I  worked  out  that 
she's  seen  him  an'  told  him  plenty;  that  she'd  told  him 
he  was  a  lousy  double-crossin'  dog  an'  that  she  was 
goin'  to  leave  him  an'  after  that  she'd  started  back  for 
Connecticut.  Well,  I  know  Granworth.  He  was  an 
excitable  sorta  guy  an'  he  probably  was  a  bit  upset,  so 
I  guess  he  has  some  liquor  an'  maybe  makes  up  his  mind 
that  he  will  bump  himself  off.  Knowin'  him  I  decide 
that  he  woulda  been  drinkin'  with  some  jane  somewhere 
an'  that  she  was  the  woman  that  the  watchman  saw. 

"But  I  think  that  if  I  say  that  he  saw  Mrs.  Aymes 
that  night  that  the  police  will  think  that  the  dame  with 
Granworth  was  her;  that  they  will  bring  her  back  here 
an'  start  givin'  her  the  works  an'  makin'  things  tough 
for  her.  So  I  get  around  to  the  apartment,  an'  I  have  a 
talk  with  the  servants,  an'  we  fix  to  keep  quiet  about  her 
bein'  in  town  that  night.  I  take  a  thousand  that  Gran- 
worth had  in  the  drawer  of  this  desk  an'  I  graft  the 
watchman  to  keep  his  trap  shut.  I  thought  then  that 
Granworth  had  bumped  himself  off  an'  I  didn't  see  why 
she  should  be  brought  into  it.  He'd  caused  her  enough 
trouble  anyway. 

"All  right.  Everything  works  out  swell  an*  the  in- 
vestigation finishes  an'  that's  that.  But  a  few  months 
afterwards  you  come  along  an'  you  say  that  Mrs.  Aymes 
has  tried  to  pass  a  phoney  bond  down  at  the  bank  at 
Palm  Springs.  You  ask  me  a  lotta  questions  before  I 

73 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

have  time  to  think  this  thing  out,  so  I  give  you  the  same 
story  as  I  handed  out  to  the  cops  during  the  investiga- 
tion. But  after  you  went  I  got  down  an'  I  did  a  little 
thinkin'.  I  knew  damn  well  that  the  bonds  that  Gran- 
worth's  lawyer  handed  over  to  Henrietta  Aymes  was 
the  real  stuff.  They  was  got  outa  Granworth's  safe 
deposit  where  they  had  been  kept.  I  started  thinkin' 
that  if  she  had  tried  to  pass  a  phoney  bond  then  she 
musta  got  it  from  somewhere  an'  knew  it  was  phoney. 

"Another  thing.  I  looked  in  the  drawer  of  this 
desk  where  Granworth  had  put  those  three  letters.  They 
was  gone,  an'  I  remembered  that  when  she  came  down 
from  Connecticut  after  his  death  I  found  her  at  this 
desk  one  day.  I  begin  to  get  a  screwy  idea  in  my  head. 
I  get  the  idea  that  maybe  I  have  been  a  mug,  that  maybe 
she  did  bump  off  Granworth  after  all;  that  she  was  the 
woman  the  night  watchman  saw,  an'  that's  why  she 
wanted  the  letters. 

"Well,  I  may  have  sympathized  with  her  in  the  first 
place,  but  I  don't  hold  with  murder  an'  I  began  to  get 
a  bit  uncomfortable.  Especially  with  you  musclin* 
around  because  you  have  got  a  hot  reputation,  Mr. 
Caution,  an'  I  start  wonderin'  what  is  goin'  to  happen 
to  me  if  you  find  out  the  truth.  I  was  right  here  because 
the  first  thing  you  do  is  to  go  an'  grill  the  truth  outa 
the  watchman,  although  I  didn't  know  that  at  the  time. 

"So  I  sit  down  at  the  typewriter  an'  I  send  you  that 
letter,  without  any  signature,  because  I  work  it  out  that 
way.  If  you  get  down  to  Palm  Springs  an'  get  them  let- 
ters, well  you  can  do  what  you  like  about  it.  If  you 
think  she  bumped  Granworth  you  can  set  out  to  pin  it 
on  her,  or  you  can  leave  it  alone,  just  as  you  think.  I 
thought  that  you  might  not  worry  about  who  wrote 

74 


NEAT      STUFF 

the  letter  providin'  you  got  the  information,  an'  I  also 
thought  that  if  you  did  pin  that  letter  on  me  I  would 
come  across  with  the  whole  works.  Well,  there  it  is. 
That's  how  it  was,  an'  I'm  sorry  if  I've  caused  you  any 
trouble  by  bein'  a  mug  an'  not  tellin'  the  truth  first  go 
off." 

I  get  up  an'  I  hold  out  my  hand. 

"Fine,  Burdell,"  I  tell  him.  "I  guess  you're  a  wise 
guy  to  come  clean.  I'm  beginning  to  think  that  this 
Henrietta  bumped  off  Granworth  all  right,  an'  if  she 
did,  well  she'll  have  to  fry  for  it." 

He  shakes  hands  with  me  an'  I  scram. 

I  say  so  long  to  the  dame  with  the  french  heels  out- 
side, an'  I  take  the  elevator  down.  I  ease  along  pretty 
quick  to  the  caretaker's  office  on  the  entrance  floor  an' 
flash  my  badge  an'  grab  the  telephone.  I  get  chief  oper- 
ator at  the  telephone  exchange. 

I  tell  the  chief  operator  who  I  am  an'  I  also  tell  him 
that  I  have  just  left  Burdell's  office  an'  that  I  have  got 
an  idea  that  Burdell  will  be  puttin'  a  long-distance  call 
through  to  somebody  at  Palm  Springs  pretty  quick.  I 
say  that  they  are  to  listen  in  to  that  call  an'  take  a  note 
of  it  an'  who  the  guy  is  at  the  other  end  who  takes  it. 
I  say  that  they  are  to  keep  this  shorthand  note  for  me  to 
call  for  an'  that  they  can  check  up  on  my  authority  in 
the  meantime. 

The  chief  operator  says  O.K. 

I  then  go  back  to  my  hotel  an'  give  myself  a  swell 
cigar.  First  of  all  it  is  quite  plain  to  me  that  this  second 
story  of  Burdell's  is  not  so  hot  either.  I'll  tell  you  why. 

Supposin'  he  did  know  that  Henrietta  had  taken  the 
letters  outa  the  desk  drawer  because  they  proved  she'd 
seen  Granworth  on  the  night  he  died.  Well,  wouldn't 

75 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

it  have  been  sensible  for  Burdell  to  think  that  she  took 
'em  to  destroy  'em,  not  to  carry  'em  about  with  her? 
How  did  he  know  they  was  at  Palm  Springs?  There's 
only  one  way  he  coulda  been  certain  of  that  an'  that 
was  if  somebody  down  at  Palm  Springs  had  told  him 
that  she  still  had  'em  an'  had  'em  in  the  rancho  where 
she  was  stayin'. 

So  I  reckon  that  after  I  have  got  out  of  his  office  he 
is  goin'  to  telephone  through  to  this  guy  an'  say  that 
I  have  blown  in  an'  tell  him  that  I  have  fallen  for  this 
story  an'  that  everything  is  O.K.,  an'  that  the  job  has 
been  played  the  way  this  Burdell  bird  wants  it  played. 

An'  this  brings  me  to  another  little  thing.  What 
about  that  picture  of  me  cut  out  of  the  Chicago  Times 
an'  sent  down  to  somebody  at  the  Hacienda  Altmira 
at  Palm  Springs?  Don't  it  look  like  Burdell  sent  that 
too.  An'  the  reason  he  sends  it  is  easy.  When  he  has 
sent  me  the  anonymous  letter  he  knows  I  will  scram 
out  to  Palm  Springs  so  he  gets  'em  good  an'  ready  for  me 
He  searches  around  until  he  finds  a  newspaper  that  has 
gotta  picture  of  me  in  it  an'  he  cuts  it  out,  writes  "This 
is  the  guy"  on  it,  an'  sends  it  down  to  the  Hacienda. 

An'  this  Burdell  bird  is  goin'  to  slip  up  plenty  in  a 
minute.  Mind  you,  the  guy  has  got  brains — plenty 
brains.  He  knows  that  I  can  figure  out  that  it  was  him 
that  wrote  the  anonymous  letter  to  me,  an'  so  he  has 
a  swell  story  all  ready  for  me  when  I  blow  in;  but  what 
he  don't  know  is  that  I  am  wise  to  that  picture  business, 
an'  that  is  just  where  he  is  goin'  to  slip  up. 

I  guess  you  will  agree  that  this  business  is  gettin'  good 
an'  interestin'.  It  is  beginnin'  to  get  me  interested — 
almost! 

I  stick  around  till  it  is  six  o'clock,  an'  then  I  get 

76 


NEAT      STUFF 

another  idea.  I  think  that  I  will  ring  through  to  the 
New  York  "G"  Office  an5  ask  'em  if  they  have  de- 
spatched them  pictures  of  the  Aymes'  servants,  the  but- 
ler, the  chauffeur  an'  the  maid,  that  they  was  goin'  to 
send  to  me  at  Palm  Springs.  I  am  lucky.  They  tell  me 
that  they  have  sent  off  one  lot  but  they  have  got  a  dupli- 
cate set  an'  they  fix  to  send  these  around  to  me  at  the 
hotel.  I  also  ask  'em  to  send  somebody  around  to  the 
main  exchange  office  an'  see  if  they  have  gotta  transcript 
of  the  shorthand  notes  of  any  telephone  conversation 
that  Burdell  has  had  since  I  went  outa  the  office,  an'  they 
say  they  will  do  this. 

After  which  I  give  myself  another  shower  to  pass  the 
time  an'  change  into  a  tuxedo  just  so's  I  can  feel  civilized 
for  one  night  anyhow. 

At  seven  o'clock  things  begin  to  happen.  An  agent 
comes  round  from  the  "G"  Office  with  a  note  of  a  con- 
versation that  Burdell  has  had  with  Palm  Springs.  He 
leaves  this  an'  he  leaves  the  packet  of  duplicate  pictures 
an'  after  he  has  had  a  little  rye  with  me  he  goes.  I  read 
the  note  of  the  Burdell  conversation,  and  do  I  get  one  big 
kick  outa  it.  Here  it  is: 

New  York.  Central  Exchange 
Time:  5.24  p.m. 

Report  of  long-distance  telephone  conversation  from 
office  of  Langdon  Burdell  Central  174325  and  Hacienda 
Altmira,  Palm  Springs,  Calif. 

Call  from  Burdell  Office  5.24 

Burdell  Office: — Hello.  Long-distance  call  please. 
This  is  Central  174325,  office  of  Langdon  Burdell,  call- 
ing Palm  Springs  674356. 

77 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

Operator: — Central  174325  Langdon  Burdell  calling 
Palm  Springs,  California.  Palm  Springs  674356.  Hang 
up  please  I  will  call  you. 

Time:   5.32 

Operator: — Hello,  Central  174325.  Here  is  your 
Palm  Springs  number.  Take  your  call  please. 

Burdell  Office: — Hello,  hello,  Hacienda  Altmira? 

Hacienda: — Yes,  who  are  you?  What  do  you  -want? 

Burdell  Office: — This  is  Langdon  Burdell.  Is  Ferdie 
there? 

Hacienda: — Sure.  I'll  get  him.  How  you  makin'  out 
Langdon?  Hang  on,  I'll  get  Ferdie. 

Hacienda: — Hello,  Langdon? 

Burdell  Office: — Is  this  you,  Ferdie? 

Hacienda: — You  betcha.    What  do  you  know? 

Burdell  Office: — Listen  kid.  Get  an  earful  of  this  an' 
don't  make  any  -mistakes.  Are  you  listenin'?  O.K. 
Well,  this  afternoon  this  goddam  Caution  comes  bustin' 
around  here  askin'  plenty  questions.  He  has  fell  for  this 
business  an'  he  is  on  to  me  for  writin'  the  anonymous 
letter  to  him  an'  startin'  him  off  after  the  letters  at  Palm 
Springs.  I  tell  him  the  works.  I  tell  him  how  I  tried  to 
cover  up  for  the  Aymes  dame  until  this  counter feitin' 
business  starts  an'  then  I  get  a  screwy  idea  that  after  all 
she  has  probably  bumped  of  Granworth  an'  that  I  do 
not  want  to  be  a  party  to  a  murder  rap  so  I  am  cashin'  in 
with  the  truth.  The  big  mug  listens  with  his  ears  flop- 
pin'  an'  then  shakes  me  by  the  hand  an'  scrams.  I  have 
also  wised  him  up  to  the  fact  that  the  original  bonds 
that  was  given  to  Henrietta  was  O.K.  an'  that  she  musta 
got  the  phoney  ones  herself.  Now  listen,  Ferdie,  I  reckon 
that  he  is  comin'  back  to  Palm  Springs  plenty  quick  an' 

78 


NEAT       STUFF 

that  he  is  layin'  to  pinch  Henrietta  just  as  soon  as  he  can 
get  his  hooks  on  her.  Because  if  he  can  pin  the  -murder 
thing  on  her  an'  she  gets  the  chair,  the  Feds  are  goin'  to 
take  it  for  granted  that  she  pulled  the  counter feitin'  too 
because  that  will  be  the  easiest  way  to  close  the  case  down. 
You  got  all  that? 

Hacienda: — Swell,  Langdon.  Okie  doke.  An'  I  play 
it  the  way  we  said. 

Bur  dell  Office: — You  bet  your  life.  What  you  gotta 
do  is  to  get  hitched  up  to  the  dame.  You  gotta  make  her 
marry  you.  You  can  do  it  easy.  When  that  big  mug 
Caution  comes  back  an*  starts  gumshoein'  around  she's 
goin'  to  get  good  an'  scared.  Then  pull  your  stuff.  You 
tell  her  that  the  only  way  she  can  beat  this  murder  rap 
is  if  we  say  that  our  original  evidence  was  right — that 
she  wasn't  in  New  York  the  night  Granworth  did  the 
high  divin'  act.  After  that  everything's  easy.  You  got 
all  that,  Ferdie? 

Hacienda: — You  said  it.  I  got  it  O.K. 

Bur  dell  Office: — Give  Verier  a  a  lovin'  kick  in  the  pants 
for  me  an'  tell  him  I'll  be  seein'  him  directly  this  job's 
finished  an'  we  get  where  we  wanta.  So  long,  Ferdie. 
Keep  your  nose  clean  baby  an'  no  gun  play  if  you  can 
keep  off  it. 

Hacienda: — 'Bye,  Langdon.  An'  don't  you  get  your 
nose  dirty  either.  I'll  be  seein'  you. 

Call  ends. 

Operator: — G.  O.  Tarnet. 
Shorthand  notes  by  V.  L.  O'Leary. 

Is  this  sweet  readin'  or  is  it?  It  looks  like  I  am  dead 
right  in  my  ideas  about  this  Burdell  guy,  an'  I  decide 
that  before  I  am  through  with  him  I  am  goin'  to  hand 

79 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

him  something  for  callin'  me  that  big  mug  Caution. 
It  is  an  extraordinary  thing  how  all  these  guys  who  are 
up  to  funny  business  always  think  that  any  kinda 
policeman  is  a  mug.  It's  a  sorta  rule  with  them,  but  now 
an'  again  they  find  out  that  the  drinks  are  on  them. 

But  believe  me  I  ain't  said  nothin'  yet.  When  I  have 
read  through  the  notes  I  undo  the  package  of  pictures. 
There  are  three  of  'em — Dubuinet  the  maid,  Palantza 
the  butler  an'  Termiglo  the  chauffeur,  an'  when  I  look 
at  this  last  mug  do  I  get  a  kick?  Because  Termiglo 
the  chauffeur  is  nobody  else  but  Fernandez,  the  big  guy 
at  the  Hacienda  Altmira,  the  guy  I  smacked  down, 
an'  threw  down  the  stairs!  Boy,  is  this  beginnin*  to 
look  good  or  is  it? 

So  Fernandez  was  the  chauffeur  in  the  Aymes  family 
under  the  name  of  Juan  Termiglo,  an'  now  he  is  Fer- 
nandez the  big  gambler  out  at  the  Hacienda.  Now 
I  am  beginning  to  understand  about  the  picture  of  me 
that  was  sent  down  there.  Burdell  sent  it  all  right  an' 
he  sent  it  to  Fernandez  so's  he  would  know  who  I  was, 
an'  it  was  Fernandez  who  let  Burdell  know  where 
Henrietta's  three  letters  was. 

But  wait  just  one  little  minute!  Let's  get  this  straight. 
How  did  Fernandez  know  where  Henrietta  had  got 
them  letters  hidden? 

I  reckon  that  he  knew  where  they  was  hidden  because 
he  was  the  guy  who  planted  them  there.  Didn't  I  tell 
you  that  I  found  them  letters  a  damn  sight  too  easy? 
The  way  they  was  stuck  in  that  cut  out  book  of  poetry 
looked  to  me  as  if  they  was  just  shriekin'  to  be  found  by 
anybody  who  had  enough  sense  to  look  in  the  right  sorta 
places. 

80 


NEAT      STUFF 

An'  if  I  am  right  about  this — an'  I  believe  I  am — 
then  Burdell  is  a  double  liar.  All  that  stuff  he  told  me 
about  Henrietta  findin'  the  letters  in.  Granworth's  desk 
an'  takin'  'em  away  is  just  a  lotta  punk. 

O.K.  So  we  found  something  out  ain't  we?  Some- 
thing that  is  beginnin'  to  look  good.  I  have  already  got 
a  bunch  of  ideas  stewin'  around  in  my  head  about  this 
new  set-up. 

I  grab  a  piece  of  paper  an'  a  pencil  an'  I  write  it  down 
just  to  sorta  analyse  it  in  my  mind.  Here  it  is: 

Point  1: — Burdell  gets  the  servants  to  say  that  Hen- 
rietta is  outa  town  on  the  night  of  Aymes'  death.  He 
gives  the  Cotton's  Wharf  watchman  one  thousand  bucks 
to  keep  his  'mouth  shut  about  the  woman  in  the  car. 

Point  2: — When  the  counterfeit  Federal  bond  is  passed 
by  Henrietta  and  Caution  is  brought  in  on  the  job,  Bur- 
dell tells  him  the  same  story  as  he  told  the  New  York 
cops.  Right  then  he  gets  the  three  letters  which  he  has 
found  in  Granworth's  desk  an*  sends  them  to  Fernandez 
who  is  out  at  the  Hacienda  and  tells  him  to  plant  them 
somewhere  where  they  will  be  found  easy  in  Henrietta's 
room  at  the  rancho.  He  then  writes  an  anonymous 
letter  to  Caution  an'  tells  him  to  get  out  to  Palm  Springs 
an'  grab  the  letters  which  will  tell  him  a  lot. 

Point  3: — Caution  goes  to  Palm  Springs,  finds  the 
letters,  and  also  the  picture  and  begins  to  think  there  is 
something  screwy  going  on.  He  comes  back  to  New 
York  and  sees  Burdell.  Burdell  tells  Caution  a  swell 
story  which  explains  his  change  of  front.  Caution  makes 
out  that  he  is  falling  for  this  an'  checks  up  on  the  next 
'phone  conversation. 

81 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

So  what  do  we  know?  We  know  one  thing  certain 
an'  that  is  that  the  Burdell-Fernandez  set-up  are  tryin' 
to  pin  a  first-degree  murder  rap  on  Henrietta. 

O.K.  Well  if  this  is  so  perhaps  you  can  tell  me  some- 
thing? If  these  two  guys  are  tryin'  to  frame  Henrietta 
for  the  murder  of  Granworth  Aymes,  then  why  in  the 
name  of  everything  that  is  sizzlin'  is  Burdell  so  keen  that 
Henrietta  should  get  herself  married  to  Fernandez? 

Ain't  that  a  sweet  question?  Because  that  is  the  thing 
that  is  stickin'  in  my  mind  an'  I  have  gotta  find  the 
answer  somehow,  otherwise  this  case  is  goin'  to  get  me 
nuts  in  a  minute. 

But  there's  one  thing  you  can  rely  on.  The  explana- 
tion is  always  damn  simple.  They  always  are  when  you 
finally  find  'em  out,  but  at  the  time  they  look  tough. 

Like  once  when  I  was  in  Oklahoma  a  dame  who  I 
was  very  stuck  on  hit  me  right  on  the  top  of  the  head 
with  a  tent  mallet.  When  I  come  to  an'  I  asked  her 
how  come  she  said  she  was  gettin'  so  damn  fond  of  me 
that  she  knew  that  unless  she  done  something  about  it 
she  would  break  up  her  home  an'  family  because  she 
was  so  fond  of  my  ugly  mug.  She  said  that  she  had 
thought  it  all  out  an'  the  best  way  out  was  for  her  to 
sock  me  one  with  a  tent  mallet  because  it  would  create 
a  situation  that  would  clean  things  up. 

She  was  right.  After  she  had  one  sock  I  left  Okla- 
homa. 

The  point  is  that  I  am  goin'  to  use  the  same  technique 
— as  the  professors  call  it.  I  am  goin'  back  to  Palm 
Springs  an'  I  am  goin'  around  with  a  tent  mallet  bustin' 
guys  wide  open  until  somebody  stops  two  timin'  me 
an'  comes  across  with  a  spot  of  real  honest-to-God  truth. 

An'  here  we  go! 

82 


CHAPTER   VI 

WOMAN    STUFF 

WHILE  I  am  flying  back  to  Palm  Springs  I  think  out 
how  I  am  goin'  to  handle  this  business.  First  of  all  it 
is  a  cinch  that  it  is  no  good  my  jumpin'  around  pre- 
tendin'  to  be  Mr.  Selby  T.  Frayme  of  Magdalena, 
Mexico,  any  longer,  because  it  looks  to  me  like  all  the 
guys  that  I  don't  wanta  know  I  am  a  "G"  man  have 
known  about  it  for  a  helluva  long  time.  Here  is  where 
we  come  right  out  into  the  open. 

As  far  as  Henrietta  is  concerned  I  reckon  I  have  got 
enough  on  her  to  make  her  talk,  because  you  have  gotta 
realise  that  although  I  am  certainly  partial  to  this  dame 
I  have  never  allowed  my  personal  feelin's  to  interfere 
with  my  business,  well,  not  much,  an'  after  all  the  fact 
that  a  jane  is  pretty  don't  mean  a  damn  thing  because 
it  is  always  the  hotcha  numbers  who  get  into  jams. 

I  reckon  if  you  was  to  stick  an  ugly  jane  on  an  island 
where  there  was  a  coupla  hundred  tough  guys  stickin' 
around  nothin'  much  would  happen;  but  you  plant 
a  little  lady  who  has  got  this  an'  that  in  the  middle  of  a 
jungle  you  can  betcha  sweet  an'  holy  life  that  some 
guy  will  be  busy  startin'  a  big  lion  hunt  just  to  show 
her  what  a  swell  guy  he  is. 

I  will  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  a  travelin*  salesman  in 
Missouri  once  told  me  that  if  there  wasn't  any  dames 
in  the  world  there  wouldn't  be  no  crime.  We  talked 
this  thing  over  an'  after  he  had  had  half  a  bottle  of  rye 
he  got  all  sentimental  about  it,  an'  said  that  anyway 

83 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

he  reckoned  he  would  sooner  have  crime  an'  dames. 

He  got  his  way  all  right,  because  eighteen  months 
after  some  jane  slugged  him  with  a  car  spanner  after 
which  he  handed  in  his  order  book  an'  took  a  one-way 
trip  to  the  local  cemetery. 

Just  how  Henrietta  is  breakin'  with  these  guys  out  at 
the  Hacienda  I  do  not  know.  This  is  another  thing  I 
have  got  to  find  out  because  it  certainly  looks  a  bit 
funny  to  me  that  she  is  stickin'  around  in  a  place  actin' 
as  hostess  an'  bein'  kissed  by  some  big  guy  who  used  to 
be  the  chauffeur.  Maybe  this  Fernandez  has  got  some 
pull  over  Henrietta,  an'  is  makin'  her  toe  the  line  which 
would  account  for  her  tellin'  me  that  she  might  have  to 
marry  him. 

It  is  eight  o'clock  when  I  pull  in  at  the  Miranda  House 
in  Palm  Springs,  an'  I  am  good  an'  tired,  but  I  decide 
that  I  am  goin'  to  getta  move  on  with  business  an'  not 
let  any  grass  grow  in  my  ears  while  I  am  doin'  it. 

After  I  have  had  a  shower  an'  a  meal  I  put  a  call 
through  to  the  Hacienda  an'  ask  if  Mrs.  Aymes  is  around. 
Some  guy  at  the  other  end — an'  I  decide  by  the  way 
he  talks  it  is  Periera — says  what  do  I  want  with  her,  an' 
I  tell  him  that  what  I  want  with  her  is  my  business  an' 
that  if  he  don't  get  her  to  the  'phone  pronto  I  will  come 
out  there  an'  slug  him  one  with  a  blackjack.  After  this 
he  decides  to  go  an'  fetch  her. 

Pretty  soon  I  hear  Henrietta  cooin'  into  the  telephone 
an'  I  ask  her  if  she  knows  where  Maloney  is.  She  says 
yes  he's  around.  I  tell  her  that  I  am  the  guy  who  said  he 
was  Selby  Frayme  an'  that  I  am  not  Selby  Frayme  but 
Lemmy  Caution,  a  Federal  Agent,  an'  I  wanta  see 
Maloney  pronto,  an'  that  he  had  better  get  around  to 

84 


WOMAN       STUFF 

the  Miranda  House  good  an'  quick  because  I  wa-nta 
talk  to  him. 

She  says  O.K.  an'  about  nine  o'clock  Maloney  blows 
in. 

I  take  him  up  to  my  room  an'  I  give  him  a  drink. 

"Now  see  here,  Maloney,"  I  tell  him.  "I  know  that 
you  are  stuck  on  this  Henrietta,  an'  that  maybe  you 
wouldn't  like  to  see  her  get  into  a  jam,  because  it  looks 
right  now  that  that  is  the  way  things  are  goin'.  I  guess 
Henrietta  has  told  you  who  I  am,  an'  what  I  am  doin* 
around  here,  so  I  don't  have  to  explain  any  of  that,  but 
what  I  do  wanna  wise  you  up  to  is  this  little  thing. 
When  I  come  down  here  first  of  all  I  wasn't  interested 
in  how  Granworth  Aymes  died  or  whether  he  committed 
suicide  or  was  bit  to  death  by  wild  spiders,  I  was  just 
musclin'  around  tryin'  to  get  a  line  on  this  counterfeitin' 
business.  All  right.  Well,  now  I  reckon  that  I  am  very 
interested  in  the  Granworth  business  because  it  looks  to 
me  like  the  two  things  are  tied  up. 

"Since  I  have  been  to  New  York  I  have  found  out 
a  lotta  things  that  make  it  look  pretty  bad  for  Henrietta. 
Maybe  they're  right  an'  maybe  they  ain't,  but  it's  a 
cinch  that  she's  gotta  watch  her  step — or  else.  .  .  . 

"Now  murder  ain't  a  nice  charge.  Maybe  it's  my  duty 
to  advise  New  York  about  this  suggestion  that  Henrietta 
bumped  Granworth,  but  I  ain't  goin'  to  do  that.  I  ain't 
goin'  to  do  it  just  for  one  reason  an'  that  is  it  won't  help 
me  any  in  the  counterfeitin'  business,  an'  that  is  the 
thing  that  I  wanta  clean  up  right  now.  If  Henrietta  did 
bump  off  Granworth  then  she'll  fry  for  it  some  time,  but 
maybe  she  didn't  an'  if  she  didn't  then  I'm  goin'  to 
advise  her  to  talk  plenty  an'  quick,  otherwise  she  may 

85 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

find  herself  elected  for  the  hot  squat  an'  they  tell  me  that 
dames  fry  just  as  quick  an'  sweet  as  bomhres. 

"O.K.  Well  here's  the  first  thing  I'm  askin'  you  to 
do.  You  get  back  to  the  Hacienda  an'  you  have  a  talk 
with  Henrietta,  an'  you  tell  her  that  I'm  comin'  out 
there  tonight  around  midnight  an'  that  I  want  a  state- 
ment from  her  an'  that  she'd  better  make  it  the  truth. 
If  I  think  she's  tryin'  to  pull  anything  on  me  or  hidin' 
anything  then  I  tell  you  I'm  goin'  to  hold  her  right  away 
as  a  material  witness  in  this  counterfeitin'  business,  hand 
her  over  to  Metts,  the  Chief  of  Police  here,  an'  produce 
what  I  know  about  her  bein'  tied  up  with  Granworth's 
death.  An*  if  I  do  that  there's  goin'  to  be  plenty  of 
trouble  for  Henrietta.  Got  that?" 

He  nods.   He  is  lookin'  damn  serious. 

"I  got  it,  Caution,"  he  says,  "an'  I'm  certainly  goin' 
to  advise  her  to  come  clean  to  you.  It's  the  only  thing 
she  can  do.  But,"  he  goes  on,  "I  tell  you  she  didn't 
murder  Aymes.  She  couldn't  do  a  thing  like  that. 
Why.  ..." 

"Can  it,  Maloney,"  I  bust  in.  "You  don't  know  a 
thing.  Just  because  you  are  stuck  on  the  jane  you  think 
she  couldn't  kill  somebody.  I  have  known  dames  who 
usta  go  to  church  twice  Sundays  who  have  killed  guys 
so  I  don't  wanta  hear  you  tellin'  me  why  Henrietta 
couldn'ta  done  it.  She  can  do  that  for  herself." 

He  shrugs  his  shoulders  and  lights  himself  a  cigarette. 

"All  right,"  I  go  on.  "Now  here's  something  else 
you  can  do.  Before  I  went  to  New  York  I  had  a  talk 
with  her,  an'  she  said  that  she  might  have  to  marry 
Fernandez.  Now  that  was  a  funny  thing  for  her  to 
say,  because  I  have  got  the  impression  that  she  is  stuck 
on  you.  Maybe  you  got  some  idea  about  that,  huh?" 

86 


WOMAN      STUFF 

He  shrugs  his  shoulders  again. 

"I  can't  get  it,"  he  says.  "All  I  know  is  that  Fernandez 
an'  Periera  are  the  big  guys  around  the  Hacienda,  that 
they  are  sorta  partners,  an'  it  might  be  that  Henrietta 
feels  she  would  be  better  off  if  she  married  Fernandez. 
It  was  only  when  I  saw  that  Fernandez  was  ridin'  her 
an'  givin'  her  a  tough  time  that  I  sorta  chipped  in.  I 
was  kinda  sorry  for  her  an'  I  think  she  is  a  swell 
femme." 

He  sits  quiet  for  a  minute  sorta  thinkin'  to  himself. 
After  a  bit  he  goes  on. 

"Now  you  come  to  mention  it,"  he  says,  "it  certainly 
looks  as  if  Fernandez  has  gotta  nerve  to  think  that 
Henrietta  would  fall  for  a  punk  like  him.  He  speaks 
good  English  but  he's  a  lousy  breed." 

"That's  all  the  more  reason  why  she  shouldn't  even 
listen  to  a  guy  like  that,"  I  say.  "Tell  me  something, 
Maloney,  have  you  asked  this  dame  to  marry  you?" 

"Sure  I  have,"  he  says  with  a  grin,  "an'  she  said  she'd 
think  it  over.  I  reckon  I  ain't  ever  been  so  sorry  for  any 
dame  as  I  am  for  Henrietta,  an'  the  more  so  because 
she's  a  swell  kid  an'  she  don't  go  grievin'  all  the  time 
when  she's  in  a  jam  like  dames  usually  do." 

"O.K.  Maloney,"  I  say.  "Well,  be  on  your  way  an' 
don't  forget  to  tell  her  that  I'm  comin'  out  at  twelve 
an'  that  I  wanta  hear  some  sense  outa  her." 

He  says  all  right  an'  he  scrams. 

I  stick  around  until  twelve  o'clock  an'  then  I  get  the 
car  an'  drive  out  to  the  Hacienda.  There  ain't  many 
people  there,  because  you  gotta  realise  that  at  this  time 
of  the  year  there  ain't  a  lotta  people  makin'  holiday 
around  this  part  of  the  world,  an'  I  am  wonderin'  why 
Periera  don't  shut  this  place  up  for  the  bad  season  and 

87 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

scram  off  somewhere  else  like  most  of  the  other  guys 
around  here  do. 

The  band  is  playin'  a  hot  number  an*  there  are  one 
or  two  couples  pushin'  each  other  around  the  dance 
floor  an'  some  city  guys  from  Los  Angeles  makin'  hey- 
hey.  I  walk  straight  across  an'  up  the  stairs  an'  into  the 
room  at  the  top  where  the  card  playin'  goes  on. 

There  ain't  anybody  there  except  a  waiter  guy  who 
is  puttin'  the  place  straight  an'  I  ask  him  where  Periera's 
office  is.  He  shows  me  one  of  the  rooms  away  along  the 
balcony  on  the  other  side,  over  the  entrance  door  to 
the  main  floor,  an'  I  go  along  there.  I  open  the  door 
an'  I  go  in. 

Inside  there  is  Periera  sittin'  behind  a  desk  drinkin' 
a  glass  of  whisky  an'  Fernandez  is  sittin'  in  the  corner 
smokin'.  They  both  give  me  a  cold  once-over  as  I  go  in. 

"Well,  bozos,"  I  say,  "here  I  am  again,  an'  how's 
tricks?" 

Periera  looks  up  with  a  nasty  sorta  grin. 

"Everytheeng  is  ver'  good,  Mr.  Frayme,"  he  says 
with  a  sorta  sneer. 

"Cut  that  out,  Periera,"  I  say,  "You  know  damn  well 
that  my  name  ain't  Frayme.  My  name's  Caution,  an' 
I  gotta  little  badge  in  my  pocket  if  you'd  like  to  see  it." 

Fernandez  cuts  in. 

"What  the  hell  do  we  care  about  your  badge,"  he 
says.  "We  ain't  got  any  call  to  be  gettin'  excited  about 
Federal  badges.  You  ain't  got  anything  on  us,  an'  we 
don't  like  dicks  anyhow." 

"You  don't  say,"  I  tell  him.  "I  bet  you  don't  like 
dicks,  an'  I  bet  you  certainly  don't  like  one  who  gave 
you  a  bust  in  the  kisser  like  I  did  last  time  I  saw  you. 
However,"  I  tell  him,  lightin'  myself  a  cigarette,  "my 

88 


WOMAN       STUFF 

advice  to  you  is  to  keep  nice  an'  civil  otherwise  I'm 
probably  goin'  to  smack  you  down  some  more.  Where's 
Henrietta?" 

He  grins. 

"She's  just  stickin'  around,"  he  says.  "She's  outside 
on  the  side  porch  with  Maloney,  an'  the  sooner  you 
get  done  the  better  I'm  goin'  to  like  it  because  you  make 
me  feel  sick." 

"Just  fancy  that,"  I  say.  "Well  while  you're  waitin' 
for  me  to  come  back  I'll  tell  you  something  that'll  help 
you  pass  the  time  away,  Fernandez.  Just  you  get  your- 
self a  good  story  about  what  you're  doin'  out  here  callin' 
yourself  Fernandez  an'  puttin'  on  a  big  act  when  your 
name's  Juan  Termiglo  an'  you  used  to  be  chauffeur  in 
New  York  to  Granworth  Aymes,  an'  see  that  it  is  a 
good  one,  otherwise  I  might  get  a  bit  tough  with  you 
about  some  phoney  evidence  you  gave  to  the  New  York 
cops." 

"You  got  me  wrong,  dick,"  he  says.  "I  never  give 
any  evidence  because  I  never  knew  anything  about  any- 
body bein'  anywhere.  I  was  at  home  that  night  an'  I 
never  saw  a  thing  of  Henrietta  or  anybody  else,  an'  how 
do  you  like  that?" 

"O.K.  sour  puss^'  I  say,  "but  I  wouldn't  be  above 
framin'  you  for  something  or  other,  Fernandez,  so 
watch  your  step  otherwise  you'll  feel  sick  some  more." 

He  grins  an'  lights  himself  a  cigarette.  He  has  got 
his  nerve  all  right. 

I  go  down  the  stairs  an'  across  the  floor  an'  out  on 
to  the  side  porch.  Henrietta  is  sittin'  there  talkin'  to 
Maloney.  She  is  wearin'  a  blue  dress  made  of  some  flimsy 
stuff  an'  she  looks  a  peach.  Maloney  says  so  long  an' 
scrams  out  of  it. 

89 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

I  pull  up  a  chair  an'  sit  down. 

"Well,  Henrietta,"  I  say,  "I  guess  Maloney  has  told 
you  about  it,  an'  what  are  you  goin'  to  do?" 

She  looks  at  me  an'  in  the  moonlight  I  can  see  that 
her  eyes  are  sorta  smilin',  as  if  she  was  amused  at  some- 
thing. 

"All  right,  Mr.  Caution,"  she  says.  "I'm  going  to 
tell  you  anything  that  you  want  to  know.  Jim  Maloney 
says  that  if  I  tell  the  truth  everything  will  be  all  right, 
an'  that  if  I  don't  it  may  go  hard  with  me.  Shall  I 
begin?" 

"Justa  minute,  honey,"  I  tell  her,  "an'  you  listen  to 
me  before  we  get  down  to  cases.  I  don't  know  what's 
been  goin'  on  around  here  but  I  guess  it's  something 
screwy  an'  I  don't  like  it,  an'  I'm  goin'  to  get  to  the 
bottom  of  it.  Me — I  like  workin'  along  with  people  nice 
an*  quiet  an'  no  threats  an'  no  nonsense — that  is  if 
they  come  clean.  If  they  don't,  well  it's  their  own 
business  if  they  get  in  a  jam.  Now  I'm  tellin'  you  this, 
Henrietta.  You're  a  swell  piece  an'  I'm  for  you.  I  think 
you  got  what  it  takes  an'  maybe  you  know  it,  but 
you're  in  a  jam  over  this  business  of  that  phoney  bond 
as  well  as  the  other  stuff,  an'  the  thing  for  you  to  do 
is  to  spill  the  works  an'  not  forget  anything.  All  right, 
now  you  tell  me  what  happened  the  night  you  went  to 
New  York  an'  saw  Granworth — the  night  he  died." 

"That's  easy,  Mr.  Caution,"  she  says.  "It's  all  quite 
simple,  only  I'm  afraid  that  I  couldn't  very  well  prove 
it.  I  wrote  some  letters  to  Granworth  telling  him  I 
wanted  to  see  him.  I'd  heard  that  he  was  making  a 
fool  of  himself  over  a  woman  and  although  I'd  believed 
for  some  time  that  he  was  unfaithful  I'd  never  had  any 
actual  proof.  I  was  never  very  happy  with  Granworth. 

90 


WOMAN       STUFF 

He  drank;  he  was  excitable  and  often  silly,  but  when  he 
made  this  money  and  said  that  he  was  going  to  turn  over 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  bonds  to  me 
I  thought  that  maybe  he'd  turned  over  a  new  leaf.  He 
talked  about  starting  a  new  life  together.  He  even  went 
so  far  as  to  buy  some  more  insurance — an  annuity 
policy  payable  in  ten  years  time  or  at  his  death — so  that, 
as  he  said,  we  should  be  able  to  face  the  future  without 
worry.  I  remember  him  joking  about  the  fact  that  the 
Insurance  Corporation  insisted  on  having  a  clause  in  the 
policy  under  which  they  would  not  pay  if  he  committed 
suicide,  because,  as  you  may  know,  he  tried  to  kill 
himself  after  a  drinking  bout  two  years  ago. 

"I  was  actually  beginning  to  feel  that  maybe  he  meant 
what  he  said  for  once.  I  was  in  Hartford,  Connecticut, 
staying  with  friends,  when  I  received  a  letter.  It  was 
unsigned  and  it  said  that  I  would  be  well  advised  to 
keep  an  eye  on  Granworth  who  was  making  a  fool  of 
himself  with  a  woman  whose  husband  was  beginning  to 
get  nasty  about  things. 

"I  don't  take  notice  of  anonymous  letters  usually,  but 
I  telephoned  through  to  Granworth  and  told  him  about 
this  one.  He  did  not  even  trouble  to  deny  the  fact.  He 
was  merely  rude  about  it.  Then  I  realised  that  the  letter 
was  true  and  I  wrote  him  two  other  letters,  asking  him 
what  he  was  going  to  do  about  it,  and  eventually  telling 
him  that  I  proposed  to  come  and  see  him,  and  to  get 
tough  with  him." 

"Justa  minute,  Henrietta,"  I  bust  in.  "What  happened 
to  those  letters.  What  did  Granworth  do  with  them?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  says.  "After  his  death,  when 
Burdell  telephoned  me  an'  I  went  to  New  York,  I  saw 
them  lying  around  on  his  desk  with  a  lot  of  other  papers. 

91 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

I  meant  to  pick  them  up  and  destroy  them,  but  I  was 
worried  and  unhappy  at  the  time  and  I  forgot." 

"O.K."  I  say,  "Go  right  ahead." 

"I  went  to  New  York,"  she  went  on,  "and  arrived 
early  in  the  evening  of  the  12th  January.  I  did  not  go 
home  to  the  apartment.  I  telephoned  the  butler  and 
asked  where  my  husband  was.  He  said  that  he  was  in 
his  office.  I  then  called  Granworth  at  his  office  and  he 
spoke  to  me.  He  said  that  he  just  received  my  third 
letter  and  that  he  would  talk  to  me  that  evening. 

"He  asked  me  to  meet  him  at  a  down  town  cafe. 
I  went  there  and  after  a  while  he  drove  up.  He  was 
rather  excited  and  seemed  a  little  drunk.  We  discussed 
the  situation  and  he  told  me  that  he  was  not  going  to 
give  up  this  woman.  I  said  that  if  he  did  not  do  so  I 
would  divorce  him.  Then  he  said  that  if  I  did  so  he 
would  rather  leave  the  country  than  pay  me  alimony. 
He  was  furious  and  his  eyes  were  blazing,  and  when  he 
tried  to  drink  his  coffee  he  could  hardly  hold  the  cup 
because  his  fingers  were  trembling  so. 

"I  told  him  that  I  had  no  need  to  worry  about  ali- 
mony; that  I  had  the  two  hundred  thousand  dollar 
bonds  that  he  had  made  over  to  me.  For  a  moment  I 
thought  he  was  going  mad,  he  was  so  enraged.  Then, 
after  a  little  while  he  said  that  I'd  better  go  back  to 
Connecticut  for  a  week  or  so  and  that  he  would  think 
it  over  and  write  me  and  we  could  come  to  some  decision. 
But  he  said  definitely  that  if  I  divorced  him  his  life 
would  be  ruined  and  he  would  finish  everything. 

"I  went  straight  back  to  the  depot  and  left  for  Hart- 
ford. Two  days  afterwards  Langdon  Burdell  telephoned 
me  that  Granworth  had  committed  suicide.  I  reproached 
myself  terribly.  I  thought  that  perhaps  I  was  responsible 

92 


WOMAN       STUFF 

for  his  death;  that  possibly  I  should  have  handled  the 
situation  differently. 

"I  returned  to  New  York  immediately.  Langdon 
Burdell  told  me  that  he  had  instructed  the  servants  to  say 
nothing  about  my  being  in  New  York  that  day;  that  if 
this  fact  had  been  mentioned  the  police  would  probably 
be  unpleasant  and  question  me.  Burdell  had  told  the 
police  that  I  was  in  Connecticut  at  the  time.  I  was  grate- 
ful for  this. 

"I  stayed  in  New  York  for  a  little  while,  and  Gran- 
worth's  affairs  were  settled.  In  his  will  he  had  said 
that  he  wanted  Burdell  to  carry  on  and  to  have  the 
business  and  offices,  and  there  was  an  instruction  that 
certain  debts  including  the  mortgage  on  the  Hacienda 
Altmira — which  Granworth  had  built  years  ago — were 
to  be  paid  out  of  his  insurance. 

"But  the  Insurance  Corporation  refused  to  pay  because 
of  the  suicide  clause,  and  so  Periera  who  held  the  mort- 
gage on  the  Hacienda  couldn't  get  his  money.  If  he 
hadn't  been  so  unpleasant  about  the  fact  I  would  have 
paid  him — or  tried  to  do  so — out  of  the  bonds  which 
had  been  handed  to  me  and  which  were  my  own  personal 
property,  because  Granworth  had  given  them  to  me. 

"You  know  the  rest  of  the  story.  When  my  banking 
account  ran  down  here  I  took  one  of  the  bonds  down 
to  the  bank  and  tried  to  collect  on  it.  They  told  me  it 
was  counterfeit,  and  that  the  rest  of  the  bonds  were 
too.  Then  I  was  in  a  spot.  I  had  no  money  at  all,  and 
so  Periera  allowed  me  to  stay  on  at  the  Hacienda  in 
return  for  my  services  as  hostess. 

"That's  the  story,  Mr.  Caution.  Some  time  ago  Fer- 
nandez— whose  real  name  is  Juan  Termiglo  and  who 
was  our  chauffeur — asked  me  to  marry  him.  He  seems 

93 


DAMES      DONT      CARE 

to  have  acquired  a  sort  of  partnership  with  Periera. 
When  I  laughed  at  him  he  told  me  that  it  might  not  be 
so  good  for  me  if  the  police  knew  that  I  had  concealed 
the  fact  that  I  had  quarreled  with  my  husband  an  hour 
or  so  before  his  death,  and  when  I  discovered  that  the 
bonds  were  counterfeit  he  asked  me  again  and  practically 
suggested  that  the  safest  thing  for  me  to  do  would  be  to 
marry  him  in  order  that  the  other  servants  should  keep 
quiet  about  what  they  knew." 

"O.K.  Henrietta,"  I  tell  her.  "If  that's  the  truth  it's 
a  good  story  an'  if  you  made  it  up  it's  still  good.  Tell 
me  one  little  thing,  who  was  this  dame  that  Granworth 
was  runnin'  around  with?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  says,  lookin'  out  across  the 
desert,  "but  I  believe  that  whoever  she  was  she  was 
the  wife  of  the  man  who  wrote  the  anonymous  letter." 

"How'd  you  get  that  idea?"  I  asked  her. 

"For  this  reason,"  she  says.  "The  letter  was  hand- 
written, and  it  was  in  a  manly  hand.  In  one  place  before 
the  writer  used  the  words  'this  woman'  I  could  see  that 
something  had  been  scratched  out.  I  looked  at  it  through 
a  magnifying  glass  and  under  the  attempt  at  erasure  I 
could  see  the  words  'my  wife.'  I  guessed  he  had  been 
going  to  refer  to  his  wife  and  thought  better  of  it." 

"Have  you  got  the  letter?"  I  ask  her. 

"I'm  afraid  I  lost  it,"  she  says. 

I  get  up. 

"O.K.  lady,"  I  tell  her.  "I'm  believing  your  story 
because  I  always  trust  a  good  lookin'  dame — once! 
If  it's  true,  well,  that's  O.K.,  an'  if  it's  not  I  bet  I'll  catch 
you  out  somewhere.  Stick  around  an'  don't  worry  your 
head  too  much.  Maybe  something  will  break  in  a  minute, 

94 


WOMAN       STUFF 

but  right  now  this  business  looks  to  me  like  a  mah-jong 
game  played  backwards." 

She  looks  at  me  and  sorta  smiles.  Her  eyes  are  shinin' 
an'  there  is  a  sorta  insolence  about  her  that  goes  well  with 
me.  This  Henrietta  has  got  guts  all  right  I  guess. 

"You've  got  it  in  for  me,  haven't  you,"  she  says. 
"Right  from  the  beginning  I've  felt  that  everything 
you  say  and  do  is  to  one  end,  the  pinning  of  this 
counterfeit  business  on  to  me.  Maybe  you'll  accuse  me 
of  killing  Granworth  next.  You're  tough  all  right,  Mr. 
Caution." 

"You're  dead  right,  honeybunch,"  I  tell  her.  "What's 
the  good  of  a  guy  if  he  ain't  tough.  Me — I  think  you're 
swell.  I  ain't  seen  many  dames  around  like  you.  You  got 
class — if  you  know  what  I  mean,  an'  I  like  the  way  you 
move  around  an'  talk.  In  a  way  I'm  sorry  that  you're  so 
stuck  on  Maloney  because  maybe  if  things  was  different 
I'd  like  to  run  around  with  a  dame  like  you.  But  you 
see  they  ain't  different,  an'  I've  got  a  job  to  do  an'  I'm 
goin'  to  do  it  even  if  you  don't  like  it.  So  long,  an'  I'll 
be  seein'  you." 

I  scram  down  the  steps  of  the  porch  an'  go  around 
the  back  an'  get  my  car.  I  am  so  tired  that  I  am  almost 
seein'  double  an'  I  decide  I  am  goin'  to  call  it  a  day  an' 
get  back  to  the  hotel  an'  have  a  piece  of  bed. 

I  have  got  about  five  miles  away  from  the  Hacienda 
an'  am  passing  a  place  where  the  road  narrows  down 
an'  there  is  a  Joshua  tree  standin'  way  back  off  the  road 
in  front  of  some  scrub  on  a  hillock  when  somebody  has 
a  shot  at  me.  The  bullet  hits  the  steerin'  wheel,  glances 
off  an'  goes  through  the  windshield. 

I  pull  a  fast  one.  I  tread  on  the  brake,  slew  the  wheel 

95 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

round  an'  drive  the  car  into  a  cactus  bush  just  as  if  I 
was  shot.  Then  I  slump  over  the  wheel  an'  lie  doggo 
with  one  eye  open. 

I  wait  there  for  a  coupla  minutes  an*  nothin'  happens. 
Then,  over  at  the  back  of  the  patch  of  scrub,  in  the 
moonlight,  I  see  somebody  movin'.  As  he  gets  out  into 
the  open  I  go  after  him.  He  starts  to  scram  out  of  it  an' 
this  guy  can  certainly  run.  I  let  him  go  because  I  have 
got  another  idea.  I  go  back  to  the  car,  turn  her  around 
an'  step  on  it.  I  drive  straight  back  to  the  Hacienda  an' 
ask  if  Fernandez  is  there.  They  say  he  ain't,  that  maybe 
he  won't  be  around  tonight.  I  find  Periera  an'  ask  him 
where  Fernandez  is  livin'  an'  he  tells  me  that  he  has 
gotta  cabin  just  off  the  Indio  road.  I  find  out  where 
this  place  is  an'  I  start  to  drive  there  pronto. 

As  I  go  speedin'  down  this  road  towards  Indio  I 
begin  to  think  that  this  desert  is  a  helluva  place  for 
things  to  happen.  Some  of  these  guys  who  are  always 
talkin'  about  the  wide  open  spaces  might  not  think 
that  deserts  are  so  good  if  they  got  around  on  'em  a 
bit  more. 

Presently  I  see  this  dump.  It  is  a  white  cabin  fifty 
yards  off  the  road,  railed  in  with  some  white  fencin' 
an'  white  stones.  I  pull  up  the  car  by  the  side  of  the 
road  an'  I  ease  over  to  the  cabin.  There  is  a  window 
by  the  side  of  the  door  an'  I  look  through  an'  there, 
sittin'  at  a  table  smokin'  a  cigarette  an'  drinkin'  rye  all 
by  himself,  is  Fernandez. 

I  knock  on  the  door  an'  after  a  minute  he  comes  over 
an'  opens  it. 

"What  do  you  want,  dick?"  he  says. 

"Get  inside  an'  shut  your  trap,  Fernandez,"  I  tell  him. 
"Because  to  me  you  are  just  one  big  bad  smell,  an'  if  I 

96 


WOMAN      STUFF 

have  any  trouble  outa  you  I  am  goin'  to  hurt  you 
plenty." 

He  goes  inside  an'  I  go  after  him.  He  hands  over  a 
chair  an'  I  sit  down  an'  take  a  look  around. 

The  cabin  is  a  nice  sorta  place.  It  is  furnished  com- 
fortable an'  there  is  plenty  of  liquor  kickin'  around. 
I  light  a  cigarette  an'  look  at  Fernandez. 

He  is  standin'  in  front  of  the  hearth  lookin'  at  me. 
He  is  a  lousy  lookin'  guy  an'  I  think  that  I  should  like 
to  give  him  a  good  smack  in  the  puss  with  a  steam  shovel, 
just  so  that  he  wouldn't  think  he  was  so  good. 

I  have  got  an  idea  as  to  how  I  am  goin'  to  play  this 
so-an'-so  along.  I  reckon  that  there  was  never  a  crook 
who  wouldn't  do  a  trade  if  he  thought  that  he  could 
do  himself  some  good  that  way. 

"Listen,  Fernandez,"  I  tell  him.  "It  looks  to  me  I 
ain't  popular  around  here,  some  guy  has  tried  to  iron 
me  out  tonight  while  I  am  goin'  back  to  Palm  Springs, 
but  he  wasn't  quite  good  enough  an'  he  just  dented  the 
steerin'  wheel  an'  bust  the  windshield.  I  suppose  you 
wouldn't  know  anything  about  that,  Fernandez?" 

He  looks  at  me  like  he  was  surprised. 

"You  don't  think  I'm  such  a  mug,  do  you?"  he  says. 
"What  good  do  I  do  by  tryin'  to  bump  you  off?  You 
tell  me  that." 

"I  wouldn't  know,"  I  tell  him,  "but  there's  somebody 
around  here  has  got  one  in  for  me — but  maybe  it's 
Periera." 

"I  don't  get  that,"  he  says.  "Why  should  he  wanta 
bump  you  off?" 

"I  wouldn't  know  that  either,"  I  say.  "However, 
I  ain't  partial  to  guys  shootin'  at  me,  an'  I  just  wanta 
know  which  side  you're  on,  so  you  listen  to  me." 

97 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

I  help  myself  to  some  of  his  rye. 

"Thanks  for  the  drink,"  I  say.  "Now  here's  how  it 
goes.  It  looks  to  me  like  I  am  goin'  to  make  a  pinch 
down  here  pretty  soon,  an'  I'll  give  you  two  guesses 
as  to  who  it  is.  Well,  it's  little  Henrietta.  That  dame 
looks  screwy  to  me  an'  I  believe  she  knows  a  damn  sight 
more  about  Granworth  Aymes'  death  than  a  lotta  people 
think.  O.K.  Well  the  thing  is  this.  There  is  some" dame 
who  is  playin'  around  with  Granworth  Aymes  an'  this 
Dame's  husband  is  supposed  to  write  some  letter  to  Hen- 
rietta tellin'  her  that  he  is  hf  in'  a  naughty  boy  an'  that 
she'd  better  do  something  about  it.  Well,  either  that 
story  is  true  or  it  ain't  true. 

"Now  I  hear  that  you  are  stuck  on  marryin'  Hen- 
rietta. Whether  that  is  a  true  bill  or  not  I  don't  know, 
but  I  know  one  thing  an'  that  is  this  that  you  were 
Aymes'  chauffeur,  an'  you  usta  drive  him  around,  an' 
if  he  was  stuck  on  some  woman  you  would  know  who 
it  was." 

"I  was  for  Henrietta,"  he  says,  "an'  I  offered  to  marry 
her  when  she  was  broke  an'  hadn't  any  friends,  but 
maybe  after  that  phoney  bond  business  I  sorta  changed 
my  mind.  I  don't  say  she  ain't  a  very  attractive  num- 
ber," he  goes  on,  "but  I  don't  know  that  a  guy  is  justi- 
fied in  marryin'  a  dame  who  is  gettin'  herself  all  mixed 
up  in  counterfeitin'  stuff  an'  who  may  have  to  face  a 
murder  rap." 

I  do  some  quick  thinkin'  because  this  is  a  very  inter- 
esting situation.  You  will  remember  that  Burdell  told 
me  that  he  was  all  for  Henrietta  until  he  suspected  her 
of  the  counterfeitin'  job,  an'  here  is  another  guy  who  was 
supposed  to  be  hot  for  marryin'  her  pullin'  the  same 

98 


WOMAN       STUFF 

'.)    C>J 

story.  It  looks  like  these  guys  have  been  takin'  time 
out  together,  don't  it. 

"Looky,  Fernandez,"  I  say.  "Here's  the  way  it  is. 
It's  goin'  to  be  pretty  easy  for  me  to  find  out  whether 
Aymes  was  runnin'  around  with  a  woman  if  I  get  the 
boys  in  New  York  on  the  job,  but  I  reckon  you  can 
save  me  the  trouble.  I'm  goin'  to  make  a  bargain  with 
you,  although  I  don't  often  do  a  deal  with  a  lousy 
two-timer  like  you,  an'  the  bargain  is  this.  I  want  the 
truth  outa  you  about  this  woman  that  Aymes  was 
supposed  to  be  gettin'  aroun4  with,  an'  I  wanta  know 
what  was  goin'  on.  If  you  like  to  cash  in  well  an'  good. 
If  not,  I'm  pinchin'  you  here  an*  now  on  a  charge  of 
attemptin'  to  murder  a  Federal  Agent  because  I  think 
that  you  are  the  guy  who  had  a  shot  at  me  way  back  on 
the  Palm  Springs  road." 

His  eyes  start  poppin'. 

"Say  listen,  Caution,"  he  says.  "You  can't  say  that. 
I  can  produce  about  six  guys  who  will  say  I  was  around 
with  them  all  the  evenin'.  Besides,  anything  you  wanta 
know  I'll  be  glad  to  tell  you." 

"O.K."  I  say,  "listen  to  this." 

I  then  tell  the  story  that  Henrietta  has  told  me.  He 
stands  there  smokin'  an'  listenin'.  When  I  have  finished 
he  starts  in. 

"I  reckon  that  she  is  stringin'  you  along,"  he  says 
with  a  grin.  "It  stands  to  reason  that  since  you  know 
she  was  in  New  York  on  that  night  she  has  gotta  have 
some  sorta  story  to  give  a  reason  for  bein'  there.  If 
she  ain't  got  a  reason  then  it  looks  as  if  she  just  came 
down  from  Connecticut  for  some  other  reason  that  she 
don't  want  you  to  know — such  as  bumpin'  her  husband 

99 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

off.    I  reckon  that  she  made  up  that  story  about  the 
other  dame. 

"I  used  to  get  around  with  Aymes  a  lot,"  he  goes  on. 
"I  usta  drive  him  around  the  place  an'  he  had  dames  all 
over  the  place,  the  usual  sorta  dames,  but  there  wasn't 
anything  special  about  that.  There  wasn't  any  special 
one  that  he  went  for.  Nope,  there  was  just  a  whole  lot 
of  'em  an'  I  could  make  you  outa  list  of  'em  if  you 
want  it.  But  I  reckon  you'd  be  wastin'  your  time." 

"O.K."  I  say.  "Now  you  listen  to  me,  Fernandez. 
An  hour  ago  some  palooka  has  a  shot  an'  tries  to  iron 
me  out.  Now  that  mighta  been  you  or  it  mighta  been 
Henrietta  or  it  mighta  been  Maloney  or  it  mighta  been 
Periera.  Well,  as  the  professors  say,  for  the  sake  of  this 
argument,  I  am  goin'  to  say  it  was  you." 

I  slip  my  hand  under  my  coat  an'  I  pull  my  Luger 
outa  the  shoulder  holster  an'  cover  him  with  it. 

"Look,  sweetheart,"  I  say.  "I  have  gotta  reputation 
for  bein'  plenty  tough,  an'  I  am  goin'  to  be  tough  with 
you.  If  I  have  any  nonsense  outa  you  I'm  goin'  to  drill 
you.  Then  I'm  goin'  to  say  that  it  was  you  who  tried 
to  bump  me  off  earlier  tonight;  that  I  followed  you  out 
here  to  pinch  you  an'  that  you  tried  another  shot  an' 
then  I  shot  an*  killed  you,  an'  how  do  you  like  that?" 

He  stands  there  an'  I  can  see  that  he  is  beginnin*  to 
sweat. 

"An'  if  you  don't  want  me  to  do  that,"  I  tell  him, 
"you're  goin'  to  tell  me  the  name  of  that  dame  who 
was  kickin'  around  with  Aymes.  There  -was  one,  an*  I 
wanta  know  who  it  was.  If  you  ain't  made  up  your 
mind  who  she  was  an'  where  she  is  livin'  right  now, 
by  the  time  that  I  can  count  up  to  ten,  I  am  goin'  to 
give  it  to  you  in  the  guts.  See?" 

100 


WOMAN       STUFF 

He  don't  say  anything.    I  start  countin'. 

When  I  have  got  to  nine  he  puts  his  hand  up.  His 
forehead  is  covered  with  sweat  an'  I  can  see  his  hands 
tremblin'. 

"O.K."  he  says.  "You  win.  The  dame's  name  is 
Paulette  Benito,  an'  she's  livin'  at  a  dump  called  Sonoyta 
just  off  the  Arizona  line,  in  Mexico." 

"Swell,"  I  tell  him,  putting  the  gun  away. 

I  get  up. 

"I'll  be  seein'  you,  Fernandez,"  I  crack,  "an'  while  I 
am  away  don't  you  do  anything  your  mother  wouldn't 
like  to  know  about." 


101 


CHAPTER   VII 

GOOFY    STUFF 

I  DRIVE  back  to  the  Hacienda. 

On  my  way  I  am  thinkin'  plenty.  I  am  thinkin' 
that  this  guy  Fernandez  knows  a  damn  sight  more  than 
he  is  lettin'  on.  I  figure  he  only  blew  this  stuff  about 
the  dame  Paulette  Benito  just  because  he  was  afraid 
that  I  was  goin'  to  blast  a  bunch  of  daylight  into  him, 
an'  even  then  I  don't  think  he  woulda  come  clean  if  he 
hadn't  thought  that  I'd  known  something  about  a  dame 
anyway. 

But  I  am  very  interested  in  the  way  this  guy  tries 
to  bust  down  Henrietta's  story  about  there  bein'  some 
other  woman.  It  is  a  cinch  that  this  Fernandez  an' 
Burdell  are  workin'  together  on  some  set-up  that  they 
have  thought  out,  but  just  what  they  are  gettin'  at — 
search  me,  I  just  don't  know. 

An'  for  all  I  know  Fernandez  an'  Burdell  an'  Hen- 
rietta an'  Maloney  can  be  all  playin'  along  together. 
I've  known  crooks  put  on  good  acts  before  an'  when 
you  come  to  think  of  it  I  know  just  as  much  about  this 
business  as  when  I  started  in.  All  the  way  along  the  thing 
has  got  sorta  confused  with  new  people  an'  things 
bustin'  in. 

But  one  thing  is  stickin'  outa  foot.  Both  Langdon 
Burdell  an'  Fernandez  want  me  to  think  that  Henrietta 
bumped  Granworth  off.  Everything  they  have  done 
an'  said  is  calculated  to  get  my  mind  workin'  that  way. 
What  are  they  gettin'  at? 

102 


GOOFY      STUFF 

I  decide  that  I  have  gotta  get  next  to  this  Paulette 
Benito.  Because  I  figure  that  she  is  goin'  to  be  able 
to  tell  me  more  about  Granworth  Aymes  than  anybody 
else.  If  she  was  the  woman  he  was  chasin'  around  after, 
an*  if  he  thought  enough  of  her  to  give  a  swell  dame 
like  Henrietta  the  go-by  for  her,  then  she  must  have 
some  little  thing  that  the  others  haven't  got.  She  must 
have  plenty,  an'  I  figure  that  Granworth  never  had 
any  secrets  from  her. 

Because,  an'  I  expect  you  have  noticed  this  too,  a 
bad  guy  always  likes  to  kid  himself  that  he  is  goin'  for 
a  good  dame,  but  in  the  long  run  he  always  makes  a 
play  for  some  jane  who  thinks  along  the  same  lines  as 
he  does.  He  does  this  because  she  always  talks  the  same 
sorta  language  an'  believes  in  the  same  sorta  things. 
Maybe  Henrietta  made  Granworth  feel  like  two  cents 
just  because  she  was  so  much  better  than  he  was  an* 
so  he  takes  a  run-out  powder  an'  hitches  up  with  this 
Paulette,  who  knows  how  to  play  him  along.  In  nine 
cases  outa  ten  like  goes  for  like. 

I  remember  some  high-hat  jane  in  Minnesota.  Her 
pa  wanted  her  to  get  hitched  to  some  young  Bible 
student  who  was  kickin'  about  the  place,  but  she 
wouldn't  have  it  at  any  price.  She  goes  off  one  night 
an'  she  runs  away  with  a  two-gun  man  who  finally  gets 
fried  for  murder,  after  which  she  comes  back  an'  marries 
the  church  guy  with  a  contented  mind.  I  guess  that 
if  she  hadn't  gone  off  with  the  other  guy  she  wouldn'ta 
been  able  to  appreciate  the  Bible-thumper. 

There  is  one  idea  that  I  have  got  in  my  head  an* 
that  sorta  sticks.  It  is  that  Burdell  an'  Fernandez  an' 
anybody  else  who  is  playin'  in  with  them  woulda 
expected  me  to  have  pinched  Henrietta  before  now. 

103 


DAMES      DO  NT      CARE 

After  all  I  have  got  evidence  that  she  was  in  New  York 
that  night.  I  am  entitled  to  suppose  that  she  knew 
somethin'  about  the  counterfeitin'  an'  most  people 
woulda  pulled  her  in  before  now — as  a  material  witness 
at  least. 

An'  the  reason  why  I  have  not  done  this  is  just 
because  I  have  got  this  idea  that  they  expect  me  to 
do  it,  an'  I  am  a  guy  who  never  does  what  other  people 
expect.  That  is  why  I  told  Fernandez  the  story  that 
Henrietta  had  told  me.  I  wanted  to  see  what  his  re- 
action to  it  was,  an'  sure  as  a  gun  the  big  palooka  starts 
to  throw  it  down,  even  though,  if  what  he  told  me 
before  was  true,  he  didn't  know  anything  about  what 
had  happened  that  night  in  New  York  because  he  was 
stickin'  around  at  his  own  place. 

I  pull  up  around  the  back  of  the  Hacienda,  an* 
walk  around  to  the  front  entrance.  It  is  a  lovely  night, 
hot  as  hell,  but  there  is  a  moonlight  that  is  making  the 
old  adobe  walls  look  like  silver  an'  castin'  shadows  all 
around  the  place  like  it  was  some  sorta  fairyland. 

I  go  in  the  entrance  an'  I  see  that  some  of  the  lights 
are  out.  When  I  get  on  to  the  main  floor  I  see  that  the 
band  is  just  packin'  up  an'  that  all  the  tables  are  deserted. 
I  look  up  the  stairs  an'  I  see  a  guy  an'  a  dame  dis- 
appearin'  into  the  room  where  the  play  is  held  so  I 
think  that  maybe  Periera  has  fixed  a  game  for  tonight. 

Just  then  I  see  him.  He  comes  outa  the  storeroom 
behind  the  bar,  an'  he  opens  the  flap  in  the  counter  an' 
walks  across  to  me. 

"Meester  Caution,"  he  says.  "There  ees  a  little  game 
tonight — not  very  beeg.  I  know  that  eet  ees  not  legal, 
but  I  theenk  that  you  don't  mind,  eh?  Eet  don'  matter 
to  you?" 

104 


GOOFY      STUFF 

"You  bet  it  don't,"  I  tell  him.  "I'm  a  Federal  Agent 
not  a  Palm  Springs  dick,  an'  it  ain't  my  business  to 
worry  about  people  breakin'  the  State  gamblin'  laws. 
Maybe  I'll  come  up  an'  take  a  look." 

He  says  thank  you  very  much  an'  looks  as  pleased 
as  if  I  had  given  him  a  thousand  bucks.  I  have  already 
told  you  that  I  do  not  like  this  guy  Periera  one  bit.  He 
is  a  nasty  bit  of  business  an'  I  personally  would  like 
to  take  a  sock  at  him  any  time,  but  right  now  I  am 
feelin'  like  playin'  anybody  around  here  along.  I  want 
'em  all  to  think  that  they're  gettin'  away  with  every- 
thing, that  I  am  just  a  big  dumb  cluck  with  no  brains, 
because  I  figure  that  this  way,  sooner  or  later,  somebody 
is  goin'  to  do  something  that  is  goin'  to  give  me  an  idea 
to  get  goin'  with. 

So  I  ease  up  the  stairs  an'  go  into  the  gamin'  room. 
There  are  a  bunch  of  people  there.  Maloney  is  there 
an'  Henrietta  an'  about  six  or  seven  other  guys  an'  a 
few  dames.  One  of  the  waiters  is  servin'  liquor  around 
an'  there  is  a  faro  game  goin'  on  at  the  top  table  an' 
they  are  just  startin'  to  play  poker  at  the  center  table. 

I  stick  a'round  an'  take  a  straight  rye  an'  just  look. 
Henrietta  is  playin'  at  the  poker  table — she  is  evidently 
playin'  on  the  house,  an'  Maloney  is  sittin'  behind  a 
stack  of  chips  an'  lookin'  pleased.  Maybe  he  is  winnin' 
for  once.  Periera  is  just  hangin'  around  lookin'  nice 
an'  benevolent.  In  fact  it  is  a  nice  quiet  evenin'  for  all 
concerned.  Fernandez  ain't  there  an'  I  reckon  that  he  is 
sittin'  way  back  in  that  swell  cabin  of  his  doin'  a  spot 
of  quiet  thinkin'. 

An'  what  will  he  be  thinkin'  about?  I  reckon  that 
he  will  be  thinkin'  about  this  dame  Paulette  Benito  that 
he  has  told  me  about. 

105 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

First  of  all  you  gotta  realise  that  he  only  told  me 
about  this  jane  because  he  was  good  an'  scared  an' 
because  he  thought  that  if  he  hadn't  come  across  I  was 
goin'  to  give  him  the  heat.  I  figure  that  when  I  pulled 
that  gun  on  him  he  was  scared  plenty.  An'  the  reason 
I  pulled  it  was  just  this:  I  knew  that  there  was  some 
dame  besides  Henrietta  in  this  business.  I  always  had 
that  sorta  idea  an'  I  had  it  just  because  Burdell,  who 
had  always  talked  plenty,  had  never  even  mentioned 
about  there  bein'  another  dame  or  not.  Even  when  he 
was  suggestin'  to  me  that  Henrietta  took  the  letters 
she  had  wrote  from  Granworth  Aymes'  desk  just  so's 
nobody  would  know  that  she  had  written  'em,  he  never 
said  whether  she  had  been  justified  in  writin'  them. 

If  she  hadn't  been,  that  is  if  he'd  known  there  wasn't 
another  dame  in  the  business,  he  coulda  said  so  then. 
But  he  didn't  say  a  word  about  the  dame  that  brought 
Henrietta  to  New  York  an'  that  is  one  of  the  reasons 
why  I  thought  that  Henrietta  was  tellin'  the  truth. 

An'  I  figured  to  take  Fernandez  by  surprise  an'  it 
came  off.  You  gotta  understand  that  the  last  thing  that 
Fernandez  heard  from  Burdell  was  on  that  phone  call, 
that  I  had  been  along  to  the  Burdell  office  an'  heard 
all  that  stuff  he  pulled  on  me  an'  believed  it.  Neither 
of  'em  guessed  that  I  had  their  telephone  conversation 
plugged  in  an'  listened  to. 

Now  here  is  another  thing:  Fernandez  tells  me  that 
he  thoughta  marryin'  Henrietta  but  that  he  has  changed 
his  mind.  Yet  when  Burdell  telephoned  through  he  tells 
Fernandez  to  go  ahead  with  this  marryin'  business. 
Fernandez  makes  out  that  he  has  changed  his  mind  about 
it  an'  tells  me  so  because  it  looks  to  him  that  I  am  goin' 
to  pinch  Henrietta,  but  just  when  he  gets  this  idea  into 

106 


GOOFY       STUFF 

his  head'n  thinks  that  everything  is  hunky  dory  I  pull 
a  fast  one  an'  a  gun  an'  bust  the  story  about  this  other 
dame  outa  him. 

So  I  can  certainly  rely  on  one  thing,  an'  that  is  that 
when  I  go  an'  see  this  Paulette  Benito — an'  I  am  cer- 
tainly goin'  to  contact  that  dame — she  is  goin'  to  be  all 
ready  for  me.  It  is  a  whisky  sour  to  all  the  beer  in 
Brooklyn  that  Fernandez  or  somebody  is  goin'  to  tip 
her  off  that  her  name  has  been  mentioned  to  me  an'  that 
she  can  expect  little  Lemmy  to  come  gumshoein'  around. 
Well,  they'll  be  right  about  that,  only  maybe  I  will  do 
the  gumshoein'  in  a  way  that  they  won't  expect. 

Me — I  think  that  the  guys  who  are  playin'  this  busi- 
ness along  are  makin'  one  big  mistake  an'  I'll  tell  you 
what  it  is.  They  are  concentratin'  too  much  on  the 
Granworth  Aymes  death.  They  evidently  think  that  if 
this  death  can  be  pinned  onta  somebody  as  a  killin'  that 
I  am  goin'  to  think  that  whoever  did  the  killin'  was  also 
responsible  for  the  counterfeitin'.  They  will  think  that 
this  idea  will  be  the  easiest  way  outa  the  business.  But 
they  got  me  wrong.  I  never  take  easiest  ways  out  an' 
the  reason  I  have  scored  a  bull  in  some  tough  cases  before 
was  because  I  just  play  along  an'  talk  to  people  without 
gettin'  excited  about  things.  I  have  discovered  that 
talkin'  to  people  who  may  be  crooks  is  a  swell  thing  to 
do,  especially  if  you  tell  'em  the  truth.  Sooner  or  later 
they  are  goin'  to  pull  a  very  fast  one,  that  don't  check 
up,  an'  then  you  got  somethin'. 

An'  as  I  have  told  you  before,  the  main  thing  that 
I  am  workin'  on  is  the  counterfeit  job.  The  death  don't 
matter  one  jig  to  me.  I'll  tell  you  why.  Guys  are 
always  dyin'  an'  gettin'  themselves  killed  some  way  or 
other,  an'  it  is  a  very  good  thing  to  grab  the  people 

107 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

who  do  it.  At  the  same  time  a  guy  like  Aymes  more 
or  less  don't  make  very  much  difference,  but  a  big 
counterfeitin'  organization  does,  an'  I  reckon  that 
somebody  who  was  organized  enough  to  print  off  two 
hundred  thousand  bucks  worth  of  phoney  registered 
Federal  bonds  is  good  enough  to  get  a  little  attention 
from  Uncle  Sam.  Even  if  Henrietta  bought  them 
phoney  bonds  off  some  counterfeitin'  set-up,  or  ordered 
'em  to  be  made,  the  thing  still  stands.  We  gotta  get 
'em  because  their  work  is  a  damn  sight  too  good.  Why 
it  nearly  took  in  the  bank  manager  an'  Metts  told  me 
he'd  never  seen  such  a  swell  job. 

I  look  over  at  Henrietta  an'  grin.  She  has  just  won 
a  hand  an'  cleaned  up  about  fifty  dollars.  She  smiles 
back  at  me  friendly  like  an'  when  I  look  at  this  dame 
sittin'  there  smilin'  with  her  pretty  little  fingers  pickin' 
up  the  chips  I  certainly  got  one  swell  kick  out  of  it. 

I'm  tellin'  you  that  she  is  a  swell  number.  She  is 
wearin'  a  little  filmy  sorta  cloak  over  her  shoulders.  It 
is  made  of  chiffon  or  somethin',  an'  every  time  she 
moves  her  arm  it  is  worth  lookin'  at. 

She  gets  up.  Then  she  hands  her  chips  to  Periera 
who  pays  her  out  of  some  bills  he  pulls  outa  his  pocket 
an'  she  looks  over  at  Maloney.  Maloney  looks  up  at 
her  sorta  inquirin'  as  if  he  was  askin'  if  she  wanted 
somethin'  an'  she  shakes  her  head  a  little  bit  an'  sorta 
glances  quickly  at  me,  as  if  she  was  sayin'  that  she 
wanted  him  to  lay  off  because  she  was  goin'  to  pull 
one  on  me  or  somethin'.  I  pretend  to  be  lookin'  at 
the  game  an'  that  I  have  not  noticed  any- 
thing. 

Then  she  walks  around  to  me. 

"I  wonder  if  Mr.  Lemuel  H.  Caution,  the  ace  CG' 
108 


GOOFY       STUFF 

man,  is  going  to  do  a  forlorn  woman  a  good  turn  and 
drive  her  home,"  she  says.  "Or  maybe  he's  too  busy?" 

I  get  it.  When  Maloney  looked  up  he  had  meant 
should  he  drive  her  home,  an*  she  had  signalled  back  no 
she  was  goin'  to  ask  me.  I  reckon  that  she  is  goin'  to  try 
somethin.' 

I  give  her  a  big  grin. 

"O.K.  Henrietta,"  I  say,  "an5  I  won't  even  make  you 
walk.  Do  you  want  me  to  drive  you  to  that  rancho 
where  you  live?" 

She  says  yes,  an'  I  say  good  night  to  everybody  an' 
follow  her  down  the  stairs.  She  waits  on  the  front  en- 
trance while  I  drive  the  car  around  an*  then  gets  in  an* 
we  go  off. 

There  is  a  swell  moon,  an'  when  there  is  a  current  of 
air  caused  by  the  car  startin'  up  I  get  a  whiff  of  per- 
fume that  she  is  wearin' — carnation,  an'  I  always  did 
go  for  carnation.  Only  it  is  not  that  heavy  sorta  per- 
fume, but  nice  an'  mild,  you  know  what  I  mean.  It 
makes  me  remember  the  night  when  I  went  over  her 
room  an'  sniffed  that  scent  for  the  first  time.  I  remember 
all  her  shoes  an'  ridin'  boots  standin'  in  a  row,  an*  I 
suddenly  get  a  big  idea.  I  get  the  idea  that  I  am  be- 
comin'  much  too  interested  in  this  dame,  an'  that  I 
had  better  watch  my  step  otherwise  I  may  be  fallin'  for 
her  just  around  the  time  when  I  am  goin'  to  be  makin' 
a  pinch. 

Which,  I  oughta  tell  you,  is  one  of  the  loads  of  grief 
that  a  dick  has  to  bear.  Any  sorta  cop,  no  matter 
whether  he  is  Federal,  State  or  local,  is  always  comin' 
up  against  swell  dames.  Why?  Well,  because  it  is  always 
swell  lookin'  dames  who  get  in  jams.  You  never  heard 
of  a  dame  with  a  face  like  the  elevated  railway  startin' 

109 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

anything,  didya?  Well,  if  a  guy  has  gotta  eye  for  a 
swell  shape,  a  nice  voice  an'  a  well-cut  pair  of  ankles, 
it  stands  to  reason  that  if  he  don't  watch  out  his  mind 
is  goin'  to  stray  from  the  business  in  hand. 

She  starts  talkin'. 

"Jim  Maloney  was  going  to  drive  me  home,"  she 
says,  "but  I  thought  that  I'd  like  you  to  do  it.  I  wanted 
to  drive  back  with  you." 

I  grin. 

"I  know,"  I  tell  her.  "I  saw  you  two  signallin'  to 
each  other,  an*  I  thought  somethin'  was  boilin'." 

She  laughs. 

"There  isn't  much  you  don't  see,  is  there,  Mr. 
Caution?" 

"Not  very  much,  lady,"  I  tell  her.  "There  have  been 
times  when  I  have  been  caught  off  base.  There  was  a 
dame  in  a  garage  apartment  near  Baker  Street,  London, 
England,  named  Lottie  Frisch,*  who  once  shot  me 
through  the  bottom  of  her  handbag  when  I  thought 
she  was  lookin'  for  a  letter.  I  never  knew  what  she  was 
at  until  I  got  a  .22  bullet  through  the  arm,  which  just 
shows  you  that  you  gotta  keep  your  eyes  skinned, 
don't  it?" 

She  gives  a  little  sigh. 

"I  expect  you've  seen  some  real  life,"  she  says. 

I  look  at  her  sideways. 

"Yeah,"  I  tell  her,  "an'  I've  seen  a  spot  of  real  death 
too.  There  ain't  really  a  lotta  difference  between  the 
two.  Life  comes  slow  an'  death  comes  pronto  sometimes. 
Take  for  instance  Granworth,"  I  go  on,  takin'  a  peek  at 
her.  "I  bet  that  guy  didn't  have  any  idea  on  the  mornin' 
of  the  12th  January  that  he  was  goin'  to  be  fished  outa 

*  See  This  Man  is  Dangerous. 

110 


GOOFY      STUFF 

the  river  on  the  mornin'  of  the  13th.  That's  the  way  it 
goes,  ain't  it?" 

She  don't  say  nothin'.   She  just  looks  straight  ahead. 

Pretty  soon  I  pull  up  outside  the  little  rancho  where 
she  lives.  There  is  some  fat  Mexican  dame  sittin'  on 
the  front  porch,  an'  she  gets  up  an'  goes  in  as  the  car 
stops.  This  is  the  hired  girl  who  is  lookin'  after  the 
place  an'  cleanin'  up  I  guess. 

Henrietta  gets  outa  the  car  an'  walks  around,  an* 
stands  lookin'  at  me  as  I  am  sittin'  in  the  drivin'  seat. 
Her  eyes  are  shinin'  an'  she  looks  as  if  she  was  happy. 

"I  enjoyed  that  ride,"  she  said,  "and  if  you'd  like  to 
come  in  and  drink  one  glass  of  straight  bourbon,  you'd 
be  welcome." 

I  jump  out. 

"You  said  it,  Henrietta,"  I  tell  her.  "That  is  just  the 
thing  I  feel  like,  besides  which  I  wanta  ask  you  a  ques- 
tion." 

She  laughs  as  we  start  walkin'  up  towards  the  porch. 

"Don't  you  ever  stop  working?"  she  says.  "Are  you 
always  trying  to  find  out  something  about  somebody?" 

"Most  of  the  time,"  I  say.  "But  the  thing  I  wanted 
to  ask  you  is  quite  a  simple  little  thing.  I  wanted  to 
ask  you  what  sort  of  a  guy  Granworth  was." 

We  go  inside.  She  shuts  the  screen  door  on  the  porch 
an'  leads  the  way  into  the  livin*  room.  Her  face  looks 
pretty  serious. 

I  don't  wonder  at  it,  because,  if  you  are  a  woman  you 
will  realise  that  I  have  asked  her  a  sweet  question.  I  have 
really  asked  her  to  tell  me  what  she  thinks  about  her 
own  life,  because  if  you  ask  a  woman  about  a  man  she 
is  or  was  in  love  with  you  are  really  askin'  her  about 
herself,  an'  the  way  she  thinks. 

Ill 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

She  slips  off  her  little  cape,  an'  she  goes  over  to  the 
sideboard  an'  brings  a  bottle  of  Kentucky  straight 
whisky  an'  a  glass,  with  another  glass  for  a  chaser.  She 
musta  been  watchin'  me  at  the  Hacienda  to  know  that 
I  like  it  that  way.  Then  she  opens  the  shades  on  one 
side  of  the  room  so  that  the  air  an'  the  moon  can  come 
in,  an'  she  sits  down  in  a  rocker  chair  an'  looks  at  me. 

"What  did  I  think  of  Granworth,"  she  says.  "I  think 
that's  a  question  that  would  take  some  thinking  over. 
I  don't  even  know  why  I  married  him,  except  that  I 
was  bored  and  unhappy  and  thought  that  in  any  event 
marriage  could  not  be  more  annoying  than  my  life  at 
home. 

"But  I  liked  Granworth.  I  suppose  that  I  didn't 
believe  in  love  very  much  and  I  thought  that  it  was  one 
of  those  things  that  arrived  after  marriage.  It  didn't 
take  me  long  to  find  out  about  Granworth.  He  was 
the  type  of  man  who  would  find  it  impossible  to  be 
faithful  to  anything  or  anyone.  He  imagined  that  he 
was  a  good  sportsman,  but  he  would  cheat  rather  than 
lose  a  game.  He  even  thought  that  he  was  an  idealist 
and  yet  I've  never  known  any  one  with  less  ideals. 

"He  had  two  main  troubles — money  and  women.  He 
had  to  have  both,  and  I  don't  think  that  he  was  awfully 
particular  about  either.  He  was  spasmodic  in  his  busi- 
ness— one  week  he  would  be  very  industrious  and  the 
next  let  everything  go. 

"He  got  tired  quickly.  He  couldn't  stick,  and  if  any- 
thing needed  concentration  or  real  thinking  he  would 
quit. 

"I  believe  he  had  a  good  business  organization.  Burdell 
was  the  clever,  efficient  one  as  regards  work.  I  believe 

112 


GOOFY       STUFF 

that  he  was  the  one  who  made  the  money  when  it  was 
made.  Granworth  was  a  gambler.  He  had  to  try  for 
bigger  and  bigger  money  all  the  time,  and  the  result  was 
that  very  often  we  were  broke  and  then,  suddenly, 
he'd  make  some  money  and  all  would  be  well." 

She  gets  up  outa  the  chair,  and  walks  over  to  the 
french  windows.  She  stands  there  lookin'  out.  She 
looked  as  miserable  as  hell. 

"He  was  weak,  nervous  and  excitable,"  she  went  on, 
"and  he  was  untrustworthy.  I  had  ideas  for  a  long 
while  that  he  had  been  running  around  with  women, 
but  I  thought  that  they  were  the  usual  sort  of  women 
that  men  like  Granworth  went  for — chorines  and  such 
like.  It  didn't  matter  to  me  anyhow  because  during  the 
last  three  years  of  our  married  life  we  were  practically 
strangers  to  each  other.  I  saw  him  occasionally  and  as 
often  as  not  he  was  drunk. 

"Then,  quite  suddenly,  he  made  this  quarter  of  a 
million.  And  he  seemed  to  take  a  pull  at  himself.  He 
told  me  that  he  was  giving  me  the  two  hundred  thou- 
sand dollar  bonds  so  that  I  should  know  that  there 
was  something  for  our  future.  He  said  he  was  going  to 
start  over  again;  that  he  was  going  to  think  ahead  and 
maybe  we  could  string  along  together  like  we  had  in 
the  old  days  when  we  were  first  married.  He  seemed  so 
sincere  that  I  almost  believed  him." 

I  light  myself  a  cigarette. 

"If  you  knew  that  he  was  runnin'  around  with 
dames,"  I  say,  "then  why  was  you  so  burned  up  when 
you  got  this  unsigned  letter  from  this  guy  who  said 
that  Granworth  was  runnin'  around  with  a  dame,  an' 
that  he  was  goin'  to  be  nasty  about  it.  Didn't  it  look  a 

113 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

bit  funny  to  you  that  this  guy  should  write  you  about  it. 
Didn't  you  wonder  why  he  didn't  write  an'  tell  Gran- 
worth  to  lay  off?" 

She  turns  around. 

"The  answer  to  both  those  questions  is  the  same,"  she 
says.  "Granworth  knew  that  while  his  love  affairs  were 
confined  to  people  who  didn't  matter,  that  I  wasn't 
fearfully  interested  in  either  him  or  them,  but  I  had 
told  him  that  if  he  made  any  scandal  or  caused  any 
more  annoyance  or  bother  to  me  that  I  would  divorce 
him. 

"He  didn't  like  the  idea  of  divorce  and  so  he  kept 
his  so-called  love  affairs  out  of  my  existence.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  the  man  who  wrote  me  that  unsigned  letter 
might  have  told  Granworth  that  if  he  didn't  stop  fooling 
around  with  his  wife  he  would  write  to  me. 

"When  I  got  the  letter  I  was  furious.  I  was  even  more 
furious  when  I  telephoned  Granworth  about  it  from 
Connecticut  and  he  seemed  quite  disinterested  in  what 
I  had  to  say.  I  was  amazed  at  the  change  in  his  attitude 
after  all  the  protestations  I  had  heard  such  a  short  while 
before.  I  made  up  my  mind  that  either  he  would  give 
up  this  woman  or  I  would  divorce  him." 

She  smiles  as  if  she  was  rememberin'  somethin'. 

"I  suppose  that  I'm  like  most  women,"  she  says. 
"In  the  first  place  I  thought  I  could  make  something  of 
Granworth.  I  suppose  every  woman  who  marries  a 
weak  type  of  man  thinks  that  she  can  improve  him. 
We  are  all  would-be  reformers." 

I  grin. 

"You're  tellin'  me,"  I  crack  at  her.  "That's  why  the 
bad  guys  get  such  a  break.  If  a  guy  is  a  good  sorta 
guy  women  ain't  interested  in  him  much,  If  he's  a 

114 


GOOFY      STUFF 

bad  egg  then  they  think  that  they  oughta  get  out  an' 
start  reformin'  him. 

"I'm  tellin'  you  dames  are  the  funniest  things,"  I 
tell  her.  "I  once  knew  a  dame  in  Illinois  an'  she  was 
for  reformin'  some  guy  that  she  was  stuck  on.  This 
guy  usta  drink  a  coupla  of  bottles  of  rye  every  day  an' 
she  reckoned  that  she'd  gotta  stop  this  before  she 
married  him.  She  said  she  wasn't  goin'  to  marry  no 
rye  vat. 

"O.K.  Well,  I  met  this  dame  two  years  later.  She 
had  got  so  interested  in  reformin'  this  guy  that  she'd 
taken  up  drinkin'  rye  an'  she  could  drink  him  under 
the  table  any  day.  He  was  sore  because  he  said  if 
she'd  only  left  him  alone  in  the  first  place  he  woulda 
been  dead  through  drinkin'  hooch  by  now  an'  out  of 
trouble,  but  he'd  got  so  fed  up  with  watchin'  his  wife 
drink  that  he  was  considerin'  turnin'  prohibitionist.  It 
just  showed  me  that  the  reformin'  gag  don't  always 
work  out  the  way  it  seems  to  the  reformers." 

I  give  myself  another  cigarette. 

"So  you  didn't  like  Granworth,"  I  say.  "That's  what 
it  boils  down  to,  don't  it?  Say,  Henrietta,  what  sorta 
guy  do  you  like?  Are  you  sure  that  you  wasn't  stuck 
on  some  other  guy  yourself?  This  eternal  triangle  busi- 
ness can  be  played  two  ways  you  know!" 

The  smile  goes  off  her  face.  She  looks  damn  serious 
at  me,  an'  she  walks  over  an'  stands  lookin'  down  at 
me  where  I  am  sittin'. 

"You  listen  to  this,  Mr.  'G'  man,"  she  says.  "I've 
never  been  really  interested  in  any  man  in  my  life 
until  now — just  when  it's  not  likely  to  be  of  the  slightest 
use  to  me." 

I  grin. 

115 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

"I  don't  get  you,  lady,"  I  tell  her.  "This  Maloney  is 
a  good  guy.  He'd  probably  make  you  a  swell  husband." 

She  smiles  at  me. 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  Maloney,"  she  says.  "I  was 
thinking  of  you." 

I  am  hit  for  a  home  run.  I  get  up  an'  stand  there 
lookin'  at  her.  She  don't  bat  an  eyelid.  She  just  stands 
there  lookin'  at  me  smilin'. 

"You're  the  only  sort  of  person  in  the  man  line 
who's  ever  meant  a  thing  to  me,"  she  says.  "If  I  ever 
thought  about  Jim  Maloney,  it  was  because  I  know  he's 
straight  and  a  good  friend." 

She  steps  a  little  bit  closer. 

"I  think  that  you're  a  swell  man,"  she  goes  on,  "and 
you're  tough  and  very  much  cleverer  than  you  allow 
people  to  believe.  If  you  want  to  know  exactly  what  I 
think  about  you,  here  it  is!" 

She  takes  a  step  forward  an'  she  puts  both  her  arms 
around  my  neck  an'  she  kisses  me,  an'  boy,  can  that 
dame  kiss  or  can  she?  I  stand  there  like  I  was  poleaxed. 
I  am  wonderin'  to  myself  whether  this  is  a  pipe  dream 
or  whether  it  is  really  happenin',  an'  all  the  while  at  the 
back  of  all  this  comes  the  idea  that  this  Henrietta  is 
puttin'  on  one  big  act  because  she  thinks  that  I  am 
workin'  up  to  a  pinch  an'  she  imagines  maybe  that  she 
can  play  me  for  a  mug. 

I  don't  say  a  word.  She  turns  around  an'  goes  to  the 
table  an'  pours  out  another  shot  of  the  Kentucky.  She 
brings  it  over  an'  she  hands  it  to  me.  Her  eyes  are 
smilin',  an'  she  can  hardly  keep  herself  from  laughin' 
outright. 

"That  scared  you,  didn't  it?"  she  says.  "I  guess  I'm 
the  first  woman  to  every  scare  the  great  Lemmy  Caution. 

116 


GOOFY      STUFF 

Well,  here's  your  drink  and  after  you've  had  it,  you 
can  be  on  your  way." 

I  sink  the  whisky. 

"I'm  goin',"  I  tell  her,  "but  before  I  get  outa  here 
I  wanta  tell  you  somethin',  an'  it's  this.  I  think  you're 
a  swell  baby.  You  got  everything  an'  you  know  all 
the  answers.  I  could  go  for  a  dame  like  you  in  a  big 
way,  an'  maybe  forget  where  I  was  while  I  was  doin' 
it.  But  if  you  think  that  a  big  kissin'  act  is  goin'  to 
get  you  outa  this  jam  you're  in,  you're  wrong.  I  been 
kissed  before — plenty,  an'  I  like  it.  I  am  also  very  fond 
of  dames  in  general,  but  lady,  if  I  make  up  my  mind 
to  pinch  you  in  this  business  then  all  the  kissin'  in  the 
world  ain't  goin'  to  save  you.  So  get  that  behind  them 
sweet  eyes  of  yours." 

She  laughs. 

"You're  telling  me,"  she  says,  imitating  the  way 
I  talk.  "That's  what  I  like  about  you.  Well,  good  night, 
Lemmy.  Come  around  some  more  when  you've  got 
the  handcuffs  ready." 

An'  with  this  crack  she  walks  outa  the  room  an' 
leaves  me  there  with  a  glass  in  my  hand. 

I  scram.  I  go  outside  an'  start  up  the  car,  an'  ease 
off  towards  Palm  Springs.  I  am  doin'  a  lotta  heavy 
thinkin',  but  believe  it  or  not  the  way  that  dame  kissed 
me  has  got  me  in  a  spin. 

There  is  another  thing  that  is  stickin'  out  a  couple 
feet  an'  that  is  that  this  Henrietta  is  a  clever  number. 
She  tells  me  that  I  am  clever  but  believe  me  she  knows 
her  onions  an'  maybe  she  is  tryin'  to  play  me  for  a 
sucker. 

I  put  my  foot  on  the  gas  an'  whiz.  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  about  somethin'.  I  am  goin'  to  see  Metts  an' 

117 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

fix  a  little  thing  with  him.  I  am  sorta  sick  of  all  these 
people  takin'  me  for  a  ride.  I  am  goin'  to  start  some- 
thin',  an'  I  am  goin'  to  start  it  pronto. 

Work^t  out  for  yourself.  I  been  kickin'  around  here 
talkin'  to  people  till  I'm  sick.  I  been  back  to  New  York 
an'  heard  a  lotta  phoney  stuff  from  Burdell.  The  only 
time  I  got  anything  worth  while  was  when  I  pulled 
a  gun  on  Fernandez  an'  he  told  me  about  Paulette. 

Every  time  I  get  nice  with  people  they  give  me  the 
ha-ha,  an*  it  looks  to  me  that  all  there  is  left  for  me 
to  do  is  to  get  myself  some  silk  shirts  an'  go  in  for 
bein'  a  sissy. 

Whoever  is  behind  this  business  has  got  one  helluva 
nerve.  They  have  only  kept  me  kickin'  around  findin' 
out  sweet  nothin',  but  they  have  also  ironed  out  Sagers 
an'  are  kiddin'  themselves  that  they  got  away  with  that 
too. 

O.K.  Well,  if  they  want  it  tough  they  can  have  it 
tough. 

So  here  we  go! 


118 


CHAPTER   VIII 

A    FAST    ONE 

I  NEVER  did  like  mornin's  after.  They  get  in  my  hair. 
You  always  think  about  the  one  you  oughta  have  pulled 
the  night  before,  the  one  you  didn't  think  of. 

When  I  wake  up  the  sun  is  shinin'  through  the  win- 
dow curtains  an'  I  feel  that  I  am  goin'  to  get  movin' 
so  fast  that  some  of  these  guys  are  goin'  to  think  they 
was  bein'  chased  by  lightnin'.  Me —  I'm  a  patient  sorta 
cuss,  but  there  is  a  time  when  you  gotta  do  somethin' 
an'  it  looks  to  me  like  the  time  is  right  now. 

I  get  up  an'  I  take  a  shower  an'  drink  some  coffee. 
While  I  am  drinkin'  it  I  am  thinkin'  of  all  the  things 
that  I  oughta  have  pulled  on  Henrietta  last  night  that 
I  never  did.  Work  it  out  for  yourself  that  this  dame  is 
doin'  one  of  two  things.  She  is  either  stuck  on  me  so 
much  that  she  will  tell  me  anything  I  want,  or  else 
she  is  twicin'  me  an'  has  gotta  put  up  a  front  that  she 
will  tell  me  anythin'  I  want.  So  either  way  I  reckon 
that  I  missed  a  lotta  opportunities. 

Sittin'  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  I  start  rememberin* 
when  I  was  back  at  the  Federal  school  learnin'  my  stuff. 
I  remember  some  old  guy  who  used  to  give  us  lectures 
on  this  an'  that: 

"Do  somethin',"  this  old  palooka  usta  say.  "Don't 
stick  around  an'  think  too  much.  If  you  ain't  gotta 
lead,  make  one.  If  you  don't  know  what  to  do  start 
measurin'  up  the  room  or  talkin'  to  people,  or  creatin' 

119 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

situations  in  which  guys  who  are  tryin'  to  hide  a  fact 
you  want,  will  get  scared  an'  blow  it." 

Was  he  right  or  was  he.   O.K.   This  is  where  I  start. 

First  of  all  you  are  goin'  to  agree  with  me  that  I  am 
entitled  to  think  that  everybody  connected  with  this 
set-up  is  playin'  me  like  I  was  a  mug  who  is  so  dumb 
that  he  has  got  moss  growin'  out  of  his  ears  through 
not  thinkin'.  Everybody  in  this  business  is  tryin'  to 
two-time  somebody  else.  Start  with  Burdell;  this  guy, 
after  doin'  a  big  kind-friend  act  with  Henrietta  an' 
gettin'  the  Aymes  servants  to  say  that  she  wasn't  in  New 
York  on  the  night  of  the  death,  is  now  doin'  everything 
he  can  to  get  the  idea  in  my  head  that  she  bumped  off 
Granworth.  Fernandez  is  helpin'  him  along.  He  pre- 
tends that  he  wanted  to  marry  Henrietta  until  he  got 
the  idea  that  she  was  responsible  for  this  counterfeitin' 
stuff  an'  then  he  changes  his  mind.  Burdell  helps  along 
in  this  idea  by  sayin'  that  he  only  started  to  blow  the 
works  after  he  thought  that  Henrietta  was  in  on  the 
counterfeitin'. 

An'  what  about  Henrietta? 

She  just  sticks  around  an'  she  don't  say  a  damn  thing 
that  matters  except  to  make  a  big  play  for  me  an'  tell 
me  that  I  am  the  cat's  lingerie;  that  she  could  fall  for 
me  like  a  ton  of  old  coke  an'  that  generally  I  have  only 
gotta  go  for  her  an'  I  am  right  in  the  front  row  with 
bells  on. 

Me — I  could  go  for  Henrietta  all  right.  But  I  do 
not  make  a  play  for  dames  that  are  suspects  in  murder 
cases.  I  think  that  it  would  interfere  with  business. 
Anyway  she  knows  what  my  job  is  an'  therefore  she 
must  not  blame  me  if  I  kinda  think  she  is  tryin'  to 
pull  something  very  fast. 

120 


A      FAST      ONE 

Maybe  some  of  these  guys  are  goin'  to  get  surprised 
an*  that  goes  for  Henrietta  too,  because  I  am  goin' 
to  start  somethin'  an'  I  am  goin'  to  start  it  right  now. 

An'  I  am  not  bein'  side-tracked.  If  Burdell  or 
Henrietta  or  anybody  else  think  that  I  am  the  sorta 
guy  who  can  be  locoed  off  the  job  then  they  have  gotta 
think  some  more. 

There  is  only  two  angles  on  this  job  that  interest  me 
right  now,  an'  I  reckon  you  will  agree  with  me  when 
I  say  what  they  are.  First  of  all  I  am  very  interested 
in  the  state  of  mind  of  this  guy  Granworth  Aymes  just 
before  he  died.  It's  stickin'  out  a  mile  that  this  palooka 
ain't  got  any  cause  to  commit  suicide.  He  has  got 
dough;  he  has  got  health — because  the  Insurance  Cor- 
poration passed  him  as  fit — an'  I  am  certainly  not  goin' 
to  believe  that  he  was  goin'  to  commit  suicide  just  be- 
cause Henrietta  tells  him  that  she  is  goin'  to  take  a 
run-out  powder  on  him  an*  get  a  divorce.  Why  should 
he?  A  guy  who  is  chasin*  around  with  a  lotta  other 
dames — like  Fernandez  said  he  was — ain't  goin'  to  get 
burned  up  just  because  his  wife  gets  wise  an'  jibs.  The 
fact  that  he  tried  to  commit  suicide  once  before  don't 
cut  any  ice.  When  he  tried  it  before  he  was  so  drunk 
that  he  didn't  know  a  thing. 

When  he  said  that  he  was  goin'  to  start  over  again 
an'  be  a  good  guy  maybe  he  meant  it.  It  certainly  looks 
like  he  did,  because  no  guy  is  goin'  to  be  mug  enough 
to  take  out  a  big  insurance  policy  an'  pay  a  helluva 
down  premium  if  he  is  goin'  to  bump  himself  off 
knowin'  that  the  company  have  barred  payment  over 
suicide. 

The  fact  that  Granworth  took  out  this  policy  stands 
out  as  bein'  important  to  me. 

121 


DAMES      DO NT      CARE 

The  other  thing  is  this  Paulette  Benito.  The  first 
idea  that  bumps  into  anybody's  head  is  that  maybe 
this  dame  has  got  somethin'  to  do  with  it.  But  I  don't 
figure  that  this  is  so  because  you  gotta  realise  that  if 
Burdell  and  Fernandez  had  wanted  to  get  her  in  bad 
they  coulda  blown  this  woman  stuff  before  and  dragged 
her  into  it.  No,  I  reckon  that  nobody  thought  that  she 
was  important  in  this  thing  an'  that  they  didn't  mention 
her  because  they  wanted  to  concentrate  attention  on 
Henrietta. 

But  it  is  a  cinch  that  this  Paulette  dame  has  got  to 
know  somethin'.  If  she  was  aces  high  with  Granworth 
then  I  bet  he  woulda  spoke  to  her  about  his  wife;  more 
so  if  he  an'  Henrietta  was  in  bad  with  each  other,  an' 
maybe  this  Paulette  can  tell  me  somethin'  about  Hen- 
rietta that  will  shed  a  spotta  light  on  the  counter feitin' 
job.  I  reckon  I  am  goin'  to  see  this  Paulette  just  as  soon 
as  I  have  pulled  a  coupla  other  things  around  here,  an' 
that  dame  is  goin'  to  talk,  an'  talk  plenty,  even  if  she 
is  in  Mexico  an'  outa  U.  S.  jurisdiction;  because  you 
gotta  realise  that  this  dump  Sonoyta  where  she  is  stayin' 
is  right  on  the  Mexican  side  of  the  Arizona  state  line 
an'  if  I  have  to  get  her  into  U.  S.  territory  to  make  her 
talk  I  am  goin'  to  do  it,  an'  I  am  not  goin'  to  wait  for 
any  extradition  either,  even  if  I  haveta  take  her  over 
the  line  by  her  back  hair. 

An'  all  of  this  stuff  will  make  it  plain  to  you  that  I 
am  gettin'  good  an'  burned  up  about  this  business. 
Somebody  is  tryin'  to  take  me  for  a  ride  an'  I  don't 
like  it. 

I  put  a  call  through  to  Metts,  the  Police  Chief  in 
Palm  Springs,  an'  I  have  a  little  talk  with  him  an'  we 
fix  things  up. 

122 


A      FAST      ONE 

Metts  is  a  good  guy  an'  has  got  intelligence.  Also  he 
is  good  at  co-operatin',  which  is  more  than  you  can 
say  about  some  cops  I  have  known. 

We  fix  it  this  way.  He  is  goin'  to  get  two  highway 
cops  to  run  out  to  the  Hacienda  an'  pick  up  Henrietta. 
They  will  bring  her  into  Metts'  office  at  eleven  o'clock. 
At  half  past  twelve,  just  when  Periera  an'  Fernandez 
are  wonderin'  what  it  is  all  about,  the  cops  will  go  back 
an'  pull  in  those  two  heroes  an'  bring  them  along. 
After  which  I  reckon  that  we  will  get  goin'. 

I  fix  myself  up  nice  an'  pretty.  I  put  on  a  swell  gray 
suit  I  have  got  an'  a  light  gray  fedora  an'  a  silver  gray 
tie,  just  so's  to  kid  myself  that  I  am  goin'  places,  an' 
then  I  ease  over  to  Metts'  office  at  the  police  headquarters 
an'  say  howdy. 

Metts  gives  me  his  office  an'  a  cigar  an'  I  sit  there  an* 
wait. 

Pretty  soon  the  two  cops  bring  in  Henrietta.  She  is 
lookin'  good  an'  surprised,  an'  she  is  also  lookin'  very 
swell.  Boy,  can  that  dame  pick  clothes  an'  wear  'em! 

She  is  wearin'  a  lemon  colored  suit  that  comes  from 
some  place  where  they  know  how  to  cut  'em.  She  is 
wearin'  a  brown  silk  shirt,  a  lemon  panama  with  a 
brown  silk  band,  brown  an'  white  buckskin  shoes  an* 
tan  silk  stockin's. 

She  sits  down  in  the  chair  that  they  have  put  for  her 
on  the  other  side  of  the  big  desk  an'  I  see  her  lookin' 
at  my  hat  which  I  have  got  well  over  one  eye.  The  two 
highway  cops  go  out  an'  leave  us. 

"Good  morning,  Lemmy,"  she  says,  like  we  was  very 
old  friends.  She  smiles  at  me.  "What's  happening?" 
she  goes  on.  "Am  I  under  arrest?  An'  I  do  wish  you'd 
take  your  hat  off  to  a  lady." 

123 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

"Nuts,  sister,"  I  tell  her.  "An'  getta  load  of  this. 
Whether  I'm  goin'  to  pinch  you  this  mornin',  or  hold 
you  as  a  material  witness,  or  just  grill  you,  I  ain't  quite 
decided.  But  I  don't  have  to  take  my  hat  off  when  I'm 
talkin'  to  suspected  crooks  if  I  don't  wanta,  an'  you  can 
can  all  that  nice  stuff  because  you  are  beginnin'  to  make 
me  tired.  Got  that?" 

She  looks  as  if  she  had  been  hit  with  a  blackjack.  Is 
she  surprised?  An*  I  don't  wonder  at  it.  Last  night  she 
is  doin'  a  big  act  with  me  an'  maybe  thinks  that  she 
has  got  me  where  she  wants  me  an'  this  mornin'  I  come 
back  with  some  tough  stuff  that  shakes  her  plenty. 
Wouldn't  you  be  surprised? 

"I've  got  it,"  she  says  finally,  sorta  cold.  "And  where 
do  we  go  from  there?" 

"Just  this  far,  sweetheart,"  I  tell  her.  "I've  decided 
to  have  the  investigation  into  your  husband's  death 
reopened.  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Granworth 
Aymes  was  murdered,  an'  I  think  that  maybe  you 
know  a  damn  sight  more  about  it  than  you'd  like  to 
tell.  I  am  also  inclined  to  believe  that  you  are  holdin' 
out  on  me  over  this  counterfeitin'  business.  I  may  also 
bring  charges  against  you  for  endeavoring  to  pass  here, 
at  this  Bank  in  Palm  Springs,  a  counterfeit  United 
States  registered  Federal  bond,  knowin'  at  the  time  that 
it  was  phoney,  an'  how  do  you  like  that?" 

"It  doesn't  interest  me  very  much,"  she  says.  "But 
I  don't  like  it  and  I  don't  like  you  at  all  today.  You're 
behaving  like  a  pig.  I  suppose  you  think  that  after  last 
night  .  .  ." 

"Can  it,  Henrietta,"  I  tell  her.  "Why  don't  you  turn 
that  stuff  off.  Say,  do  you  think  that  dames  haven't 
tried  to  make  me  before.  That's  old  hooey.  You  thought 

124 


A      FAST      ONE 

that  I  was  gettin'  after  you;  that  maybe  I  was  goin'  to 
make  a  pinch,  so  you  try  that  soft  stuff  last  night  an' 
think  that  I'm  goin'  to  go  all  goofy.  You  remember 
that  guys  can  play  dames  just  as  well  as  dames  can  play 
guys." 

"I  see,"  she  says.  "I  suppose  that's  why  you  thrashed 
Fernandez.  You  wanted  to  get  the  idea  into  my  head 
that  you  were  a  decent  sort  of  man  instead  of  a  cheap, 
blustering  Federal  cop.  All  right,  I'm  wise  now." 

"Swell,  sister,"  I  say,  "an'  so  am  I.  Now  you  get  a 
load  of  this  an'  just  answer  my  questions,  otherwise  I'm 
goin'  to  make  things  hot  for  you." 

"Are  you?"  she  says  sorta  insolent.  "And  supposing 
I  don't  want  to  answer  them.  Supposing  I  refuse  to 
answer  any  questions  unless  I  have  a  lawyer  here?" 

"O.K."  I  say.  "If  you  wanta  lawyer  you  get  one,  but 
I'm  tellin'  you  this,  if  you  gotta  lawyer  around  here 
I'm  goin'  to  send  you  back  to  New  York  so  that  the 
police  there  can  grill  hell  outa  you,  so  if  you  wanta 
getta  mouthpiece  you  get  busy." 

She  smiles  again — a  sorta  sneering  smile.  She  looks 
at  me  like  I  was  something  that  crawled  out  from  under 
some  rock. 

"All  right,"  she  says.  "I'll  answer  your  questions. 
But  I  wish  I  were  a  man.  I'd  like  to  thrash  you  untiJ 
all  that  cheap  lousy  conceit  was  knocked  right  out  of 
you.  Do  you  get  that?  Another  thing,"  she  goes  on, 
sorta  gettin'  into  her  stride,  "I've  got  a  better  name 
for  you.  They  made  a  mistake  when  they  called  you 
Lemmy — they  should  have  called  you  Lousy,  it  would 
have  matched  up  better." 

"You  don't  say,"  I  tell  her.  "Just  thinka  that  now. 
O.K.  Well,  now,  if  you've  had  your  little  say,  I'll  get 

125 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

busy  an'  then  you  can  get  outa  here  an'  try  some  of  that 
soft  stuff  on  somebody  else — Maloney  or  Periera  or 
Fernandez  or  anybody  else  that's  around.  But  in  the 
meantime  I  just  wanta  know  this  an'  I  advise  you  to 
make  it  straight  too.  I  wanta  know  just  how  you  was 
dressed  on  the  evenin'  of  the  12th  January,  the  time 
you  had  your  last  talk  with  Granworth?  Now  get 
busy." 

I  take  a  sheet  of  paper  an'  a  pencil  an'  I  wait.  When  I 
look  up  I  see  that  she  has  opened  her  bag  an'  is  takin' 
a  cigarette  out. 

"An'  you  can  cut  that  out  too,"  I  tell  her.  "This  is 
a  police  station  an'  you  ain't  smokin'  here.  Put  it 
away." 

She  flushes  red  an'  puts  the  case  back  inta  her  bag. 
As  she  does  this  I  take  out  a  pack  of  Camels  an'  give 
myself  one.  She  watches  me  light  it  an'  if  she  coulda 
murdered  me  at  that  moment  she  woulda  done  it  an' 
liked  it. 

"Come  on  now,  Henrietta,"  I  say.  "Quit  stallin'  an' 
cash  in.  What  were  you  wearin'  when  you  come  up  to 
New  York  from  Connecticut  on  the  12th  January? 
Start  at  the  top  with  your  hat." 

She   smiles.    This   dame  can  certainly  be  annoyin*. 

"I  may  not  be  able  to  remember,"  she  says,  "but  I'll 
try.  I  suppose  you  want  to  know  everything — even  to 
the  color  of  my  step-ins." 

She  hands  me  out  another  sarcastic  smile  that  was 
just  poison. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth  I  hadn't  thought  about  your 
underwear,"  I  crack,  "but  since  you  mention  it  you  can 
tell  me  about  that  too!" 

She  gets  up. 

126 


A      FAST      ONE 

"You  cheap  gorilla,"  she  says.  She  is  white  with 
rage.  "I  .  .  ." 

"Sit  down  an'  take  it  easy,  sister,"  I  say.  "Cash  in 
with  the  description  includin'  color  of  underwear — 
remember  you  suggested  it,  not  me — an'  get  busy.  If 
you  don't  I'll  seriously  consider  handin'  you  over  to 
the  woman  warder  here  an'  getting  her  to  search,  strip 
an'  photograph  you  for  birthmarks.  So  just  play  along 
before  I  get  really  tough." 

Henrietta  sits  down.  She  is  almost  chokin'  with 
rage. 

"Now  honeybunch,"  I  say  nice  an'  soothin'.  "Here 
we  go.  Start  at  the  top.  What  sorta  hat  was  it?" 

It  is  a  coupla  minutes  before  Henrietta  can  talk.  She 
is  near  speechless  an'  I  can  see  her  hands  tremblin'. 
Finally  she  gets  going. 

"I  was  wearing  a  hat  made  of  Persian  lamb,"  she 
says,  an'  her  voice  is  shakin',  "a  toque — but  you  prob- 
ably wouldn't  know  what  that  means.  Also  I  had  on 
a  Persian  lamb  swagger  coat  and  underneath  I  was 
wearing  a  black  suit  with  a  white  silk  shirt.  I  had  on 
beige  stockings,  black  patent  shoes  with  french  heels 
and  silver  Louis  buckles,  and  black  suede  gauntlet 
gloves." 

"An*  very  nice  too,"  I  tell  her.  "I  woulda  like  to  have 
seen  you,  I  reckon  you  musta  looked  swell,  an'  what 
about  the  step-ins?" 

I  look  at  her  dead  serious  an*  she  looks  up  an'  our 
eyes  meet.  She  goes  red  an'  drops  hers.  Then  she  sticks 
her  chin  out  an'  says: 

"They  were  eau-de-nile — but  you  wouldn't  know  how 
to  spell  it." 

"Oh,  yeah,"  I  crack,  "I  know.  I've  known  dames 
127 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

before  who  used  to  wear  eau-de-nile  step-ins,  only  they 
wasn't  so  secret  about  it." 

I  ring  the  bell  an'  after  a  minute  a  cop  comes  in. 
Henrietta  thinks  that  I  am  through  with  her,  an'  she 
gets  up  an'  picks  up  her  bag  an'  is  just  turning  for  the 
door  when  I  start  talkin'. 

"Take  Mrs.  Aymes  to  the  record  office  an'  finger-print 
her,  officer,"  I  say.  "Then  when  you've  done  that  have 
her  photographed,  front  and  side  faces,  with  an'  with- 
out hat." 

Henrietta  spins  around.  Her  eyes  are  blazin',  an'  for 
a  moment  I  thought  she  was  comin'  for  me  with  her 
bare  hands,  but  the  State  policeman  puts  his  fist  out, 
grabs  her  an'  starts  to  hustle  her  off. 

She  looks  at  me  over  her  shoulder. 

"You  .  .  .  you  heel!"  she  hisses. 

"Now,  now,  now,  Henrietta,"  I  tell  her,  shakin*  my 
finger  at  her.  "You  mustn't  talk  like  that  to  your  little 
playmate,  Lemmy!  Bring  her  back  when  you're 
through,"  I  tell  the  officer. 

When  they  are  gone  I  look  at  my  watch.  It  is 
just  after  twelve.  I  ring  the  bell  again  an'  another 
State  cop  comes  in — it  looks  like  Metts  is  keepin' 
'em  hangin'  around  for  me — and  says  what  do  I 
want. 

I  tell  him  that  a  coupla  his  buddies  are  bringin' 
Periera  and  Fernandez  in  at  twelve-thirty  o'clock,  an' 
that  when  they  arrive  at  the  station  they  are  not  to  be 
brought  in  to  me  until  I  ring  for  'em.  I  tell  him  that 
two  rings  on  the  bell  is  the  signal  that  they  are  to  be 
brought  in  an'  he  says  O.K. 

I  then  look  through  the  list  of  Henrietta's  clothes, 
an'  I  fix  it  the  way  I  want,  an'  I  then  take  it  in  to  the 

128 


A      FAST      ONE 

stenographer  in  the  next  office  an'  tell  him  to  make 
three  copies  of  it. 

While  he  is  doin'  this  I  light  another  cigarette  an'  go 
an'  look  outa  the  window.  Pretty  soon  I  see  a  police  car 
draw  up  outside  an'  I  see  the  officers  bring  in  Periera  and 
Fernandez.  These  two  birds  are  lookin'  good  an*  sur- 
prised I  can  tell  you.  I  then  go  an'  park  myself  in  the 
chair  an'  put  my  feet  up  on  the  desk. 

A  coupla  minutes  afterwards  the  door  opens  an*  the 
first  cop  comes  in  with  Henrietta. 

"Everything  O.K.?"  I  ask  him. 

He  says  yes,  that  they  have  finger-printed  the  dame 
and  photographed  her  like  I  said,  an'  the  records  clerk 
is  makin'  out  a  card  now  for  the  index. 

I  say  all  right  an'  that  he  can  go.  He  goes  an*  leaves 
Henrietta  standin'  there  in  the  middle  of  the  floor 
lookin'  at  me. 

She  looks  at  me  as  if  I  was  a  large  lump  of  mud.  She 
looks  from  the  tip  of  my  fedora  down  to  the  soles  of 
my  shoes  which  are  restin'  on  the  top  of  the  chief's  cigar 
box.  Then  she  gives  her  lip  a  curl  an'  looks  just  as  if  she 
was  goin'  to  be  sick. 

Just  at  this  minute  I  press  the  desk  button  which  is 
fixed  my  side  of  the  desk  twice,  an'  in  a  coupla  seconds 
the  door  opens  an*  the  two  State  cops  come  in  with 
Periera  and  Fernandez. 

I  tell  the  cops  to  scram.  Then  I  wave  my  hand  to  the 
two  guys. 

"Sit  down,  boys,"  I  tell  'em,  very  cheerful.  "I  wanna 
talk  to  you." 

I  motion  them  to  go  over  an'  sit  on  the  long  seat  that 
is  up  against  the  wall.  Henrietta  is  still  standin'  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor. 

129 


DAMES      DON'T      CARE 

They  go  an'  sit  down. 

"Periera,"  I  say,  "I  want  you  to  do  something,  an' 
you  gotta  watch  your  step  in  doin'  it,  because  if  you  slip 
up  then  I'm  goin'  to  get  funny  with  you." 

I  point  to  Henrietta. 

"It's  about  this  dame  here,"  I  go  on.  "I  ain't  got  any 
particular  charge  that  I  want  to  bring  against  her  at  the 
moment,  but  it's  on  the  cards  that  I'm  goin'  to  want 
her  as  a  material  witness  for  the  State  of  New  York. 
Metts,  the  Chief  of  Police  here,  ain't  got  any  spare  room 
around  to  keep  her  in,  an'  I've  got  to  get  outa  town  for 
a  few  days.  So  Metts  is  goin'  to  swear  you  in  as  a  deputy 
an'  it's  goin'  to  be  your  business  to  keep  an  eye  on  this 
dame  until  we  want  her.  Got  that?" 

He  nods. 

"I  get  eet,"  he  says. 

I  turn  around  to  Henrietta. 

"You  heard  what  I  said,  sweetheart,  didn't  you?" 
I  tell  her.  "I'm  lettin'  you  blow  outa  here  an'  you  get 
back  to  the  Hacienda  Altmira  until  I  want  you,  an' 
don't  try  an'  get  outside  the  Palm  Springs  limit  other- 
wise I'm  goin'  to  have  you  pinched  pronto.  O.K.  Now 
you  scram  outa  here  an'  once  you're  outside  you  can 
smoke  as  much  as  you  like.  So  long,  baby,  I'll  be  seein' 
you." 

I  give  my  fedora  a  sorta  cheeky  flip  so's  it's  right 
over  one  eye,  an'  I  waggle  my  feet  on  the  desk.  It  works. 
She  blows  up. 

"Yes,"  she  hisses  like  a  snake,  "and  you'll  be  seeing 
me,"  she  gulps.  "If  you  think  that  you  can  get  away 
with  this  sort  of  thing  you're  very  much  mistaken," 
she  goes  on,  "you're  just  a  conceited,  insolent,  rough- 
housing  gorilla.  You're  cheap  and  nasty,  and  one  day 

130 


A      FAST      ONE 

I'm  going  to  make  you  squirm  for  this.  In  the  mean- 
time you  can  take  this  to  go  on." 

She  takes  a  quick  step  forward  an'  before  I  can  move 
she  leans  across  the  desk  an'  busts  me  in  the  face  with 
her  clenched  fist.  I  tell  you  I  was  quite  surprised. 

Then  she  steps  back,  turns  around  on  her  heel  an* 
walks  out.  I  was  watchin'  her  while  she  went,  an'  be- 
lieve it  or  not  she  looked  a  picture.  That  Henrietta  can 
certainly  walk. 

Fernandez  grins. 

"It  looks  like  she  ain't  so  pleased  about  something," 
he  says. 

I  laugh. 

"You  wouldn't  be  if  you  was  her,"  I  say. 

I  take  my  feet  off  the  desk  an'  at  this  minute  the 
stenographer  comes  in  with  the  duplicate  lists  of  Hen- 
rietta's clothes. 

"Now  listen,  Fernandez,"  I  tell  him.  "I  gotta  idea. 
I  gotta  idea  that  we  can  pin  this  Aymes  bump  off  on 
Henrietta  all  right,  an'  I  reckon  that  once  we  got  a 
capital  charge  against  her  I  can  make  her  squeal  the 
rest  of  the  stuff  about  the  counterfeitin'.  But  I  got  to 
prove  that  she  was  the  woman  who  was  in  the  car  with 
Aymes,  an'  once  I  can  do  that  I  got  her  all  set.  Once 
I  can  pin  that  on  her  an'  it  looks  as  if  there's  a  life  sen- 
tence for  her  in  the  bag,  I  reckon  she'll  blow  the  works 
on  anything  if  she  thinks  that  talkin'  is  goin'  to  help 
her  any. 

"Now  I  gotta  idea  how  we  can  work.  I  been  grillin' 
this  Henrietta  good  an'  plenty  this  mornin',  an'  I  gotta 
description  of  the  clothes  she  was  wearin'  on  the  12th 
January,  the  day  that  Granworth  died." 

I  get  up  an'  I  hand  one  of  the  duplicate  clothes  de- 
131 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

scriptions  to  Fernandez.    He  looks  at  it  a  long  time, 

"Do  you  remember  her  wearin'  any  stuff  like  that?" 
I  ask  him. 

"I  sorta  remember  the  coat  an'  the  hat,"  he  says,  "but 
I  wouldn't  know  about  that  day.  You  see,  I  never  saw 
her  that  day.  I  was  off  duty." 

"That's  O.K.  Fernandez,"  I  say,  "but  here  are  two 
guys  who  could  swear  to  those  clothes.  One  of  'em  is 
the  maid  at  the  Aymes  apartment.  I  figure  that  she 
packed  Henrietta's  bags  an'  looked  after  her  stuff  be- 
fore she  went  away  to  Hartford,  didn't  she?" 

He  raises  his  eyebrows. 

"You  bet,"  he  says.  "Marie  Dubuinet — that's  the 
maid — would  know,  an'  I  can  tell  you  where  you  can 
contact  her.  She's  still  in  New  York.  She's  personal 
maid  to  Mrs.  John  Vlaford,  an'  she'd  know.  She's  a 
damn  intelligent  girl  is  Marie.  She  never  forgets  a 
thing." 

"O.K.,"  I  say,  "an'  there's  somebody  else  too.  There's 
the  watchman  on  Cotton's  Wharf.  I  reckon  if  this 
guy's  sight  was  good  enough  to  see  that  it  was  a  woman 
who  got  outa  Granworth's  car,  it  was  good  enough  for 
him  to  remember  the  fur  coat  an'  hat  she  was  wearin'. 
I'm  takin'  this  description  to  New  York,  an'  I'm  goin' 
to  get  the  police  to  check  up  with  the  maid  an'  the 
watchman.  If  they  can  identify  those  clothes  then  I'm 
comin'  back  here  to  pinch  Henrietta,  because  I  tell  you 
now  that  I'm  dead  certain  that  she  bumped  off  Aymes. 

"There's  another  thing,"  Fernandez,"  I  go  on.  "I 
reckon  that  I  mighta  made  a  mistake  about  you  bein' 
the  guy  who  had  a  shot  at  me  the  other  night.  Maybe 
it  wasn't  a  guy  at  all — maybe  it  was  a  dame." 

I  look  at  him  sorta  old-fashioned. 
132 


A      FAST      ONE 

He  grins. 

"Well,  you  might  be  right  at  that,"  he  says.  "It  cer- 
tainly wasn't  me.  Periera  here  an'  a  coupla  the  boys 
know  I  was  stickin*  around  there  all  the  time.  But,"  he 
goes  on,  "I  reckon  that  maybe  you're  right.  I  like  Hen- 
rietta, but  I  don't  hold  with  murder  an'  it  looks  like 
you  say  that  she  bumped  off  Granworth  all  right,  but 
I'm  sorry  all  the  same,"  he  says,  "because  she  is  a  swell 
dame." 

"You're  tellin'  me,"  I  say.  "An'  it's  always  swell 
dames  who  start  the  trouble.  They're  always  worse  than 
the  worst  he-killer.  They  just  don't  care." 

I  get  up. 

"O.K.  boys,"  I  tell  'em.  "Be  on  your  way.  Don't  you 
forget,  Periera,  that  you're  responsible  for  Henrietta, 
an*  thanks  for  the  tip-off  about  the  maid,  Fernandez. 
I'll  take  care  of  that  job  right  away." 

When  they  have  gone  I  sit  down  at  the  desk  an'  do  a 
little  quiet  thinkin'.  I  figure  that  maybe  this  thing  is 
goin'  to  work  out,  an'  if  it  don't,  well  it's  just  too  bad. 

Metts  blows  in.   He  is  grinnin'  all  over  his  face. 

"You  certainly  handed  it  to  the  dame,"  he  says.  "I 
thought  one  time  that  she  was  goin'  to  crown  you.  I 
was  listenin'  in  the  next  room,"  he  goes  on.  "I  just 
couldn't  miss  it.  You  see  I  don't  get  much  excitement 
around  here." 

He  hands  me  the  developed  photographs  of  Henri- 
etta, an'  the  finger-print  card,  an'  the  record  card.  I  put 
'em  on  the  desk. 

"Where  do  we  go  from  here,  Lemmy?"  he  says.  "I 
don't  know  what  this  set-up  is,  but  whatever  it  is  you 
gotta  helluva  technique  I  will  say.  Can  I  do  anything 
else?" 

133 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

"Yeah,"  I  say,  "there  is  just  one  or  two  little  things 
that  you  can  do  around  here.  One  is  just  get  it  around 
this  burg  that  I  have  scrammed  outa  here  for  New  York 
an'  that  I  am  not  expected  back  for  a  week  or  so.  The 
other  thing  is  that  you  can  keep  a  quiet  eye  on  the  Ha- 
cienda Altmira  an'  see  that  dame  Henrietta  don't  start 
gettin'  windy  an'  takin'  a  run-out  powder  on  us,  an' 
the  third  an'  last  thing  you  can  do  is  to  fix  me  an  air- 
plane. I  wanna  go  places." 

"You  flyin'  to  New  York?"  he  says. 

"New  York  my  eye,"  I  tell  him.  "I'm  flyin'  to  Yuma 
an'  then  I'm  goin'  to  coast  along  the  Arizona  State  line 
an'  bust  into  Mexico.  I  got  a  date  with  a  dame." 

He  grins. 

"Is  she  a  good  dame,  Lemmy?"  he  says. 

"I  wouldn't  know,"  I  tell  him.  "I  ain't  ever  seen  her, 
but  I  reckon  that  she  is  due  to  get  acquainted  with  me. 
Now  will  you  be  a  good  guy  an'  fix  that  plane?" 

He  says  O.K.  an'  he  goes  off.  I  grab  the  telephone  an' 
I  send  a  code  telegram  to  the  "G"  Office  in  New  York. 
I  send  the  list  of  Henrietta's  clothes  an'  I  ask  'em  to 
check  on  this  list  with  the  maid  Marie  Dubuinet,  an' 
the  watchman  at  Cotton's  Wharf  an'  to  telegraph  me 
the  result  back  to  Palm  Springs  to  wait  for  me  when  I 
come  back. 

Just  when  I  have  got  this  done  Metts  comes  in.  He 
has  been  on  the  phone  in  the  next  room  an'  fixed  about 
the  airplane.  He  is  a  pleasant  sorta  guy  this  Metts  an' 
he  is  feelin'  good  an'  talkative. 

I  am  sittin'  at  the  desk  lookin'  at  the  police  pictures 
of  Henrietta.  I  read  the  record  card: 

Henrietta  Marella  Charhworth  Aymes.  Widow  of 
Granworth  Aymes,  suicide  January  12-13,  1936. 

134 


A      FAST      ONE 

Height,  5  ft.  7l/i  in.  Brunette.  Eyes  blue.  Complexion 
healthy.  Features  regular.  Figure  slim.  Carriage  erect. 
Speech,  educated.  Voice  cultured.  Weight,  135  pounds. 

This  is  a  pretty  good  picture  of  Henrietta  I  think. 
Then  I  look  at  the  finger-prints.  They  have  certainly 
made  a  neat  job  of  these,  an'  the  photographs  are  very 
swell. 

"Nice  work,  chief,"  I  tell  him.  "You  gotta  good  staff 
around  here." 

I  nod.  He  comes  around  behind  me  an'  looks  over 
my  shoulder  at  the  pictures  an'  the  finger-print  an1  rec- 
ord cards. 

"I  put  you  to  a  lotta  trouble,  chief,"  I  tell  him,  "so 
you  won't  get  burned  up  when  I  do  this?" 

"Do  what?"  he  says,  lookin'  at  me. 

I  tear  up  the  pictures  an'  the  finger-print  an'  record 
cards,  an'  I  throw  'em  in  the  waste  basket. 

He  looks  at  me  with  his  eyes  poppin'. 

"What  the  hell?"  he  says. 

I  grin. 

"Just  technique,  chief,"  I  tell  him.  "Just  a  spotta 
technique.  I'll  be  seein'  you." 

I  scram.   Mexico  is  callin*. 


135 


CHAPTER   IX 

HEY  PAULETTE! 

IT  is  seven  o'clock  an'  a  fine  evenin'  an'  I  am  drivin' 
along  the  State  road  that  runs  along  the  Mexican  bor- 
der between  Mexicali  an'  Sonoyta. 

There  is  one  swell  moon.  There  is  a  lotta  people  who 
don't  like  this  desert  scenery,  but  me,  I  go  for  it.  I'm 
for  the  wide  open  spaces  where  men  are  men  an'  women 
are  damn  glad  of  it. 

An'  I  am  plenty  curious  about  this  Paulette.  Speakin* 
confidentially,  I  am  keen  to  have  a  look  at  this  dame. 
Why?  Because  I  like  lookin'  at  dames  and,  speaking 
confidentially  some  more,  I  am  hot  to  get  a  look  at  the 
dame  that  Aymes  turned  down  Henrietta  for,  because 
believe  it  or  not  this  baby  has  gotta  have  what  it  takes 
in  a  big  way  to  get  a  start  of  Henrietta.  Get  me? 

Besides  which  I  am  not  certain  just  where  Henrietta 
is  breakin'.  I  told  you  how  I  tore  up  the  record  card 
an'  finger-print  cards  an'  pictures  of  her  I  had  taken  at 
Palm  Springs,  an'  maybe  you  are  wonderin'  why  I  done 
this.  If  you  got  intelligence  you  will  realise  that  the 
show  I  put  up  down  at  the  Palm  Springs  police  station 
was  a  big  act  an'  if  you  stick  around  you'll  see  why  I 
played  it  that  way. 

I  start  singin'  Cactus  Lizzie  again  because  I  have  al- 
ways found  that  I  drive  quicker  when  I  am  singin'  this 
jingle. 

I  go  on  eatin'  up  the  miles  an'  wonderin'.  Sonoyta  is 
about  ten  miles  over  the  Mexican  side  of  the  Arizona- 

.136 


HEY  PAULETTE! 

Mexico  State  line,  an'  it  is  about  a  hundred  an5  fifty 
miles  from  Mexicali,  but  what  the  roads  are  goin'  to  be 
like  when  I  pull  off  the  road  I  am  on  is  another  business. 

It  is  eight  o'clock  when  I  get  to  the  intersection.  The 
left  road  runs  inta  Arizona  an'  the  right  inta  Mexico. 
I  pull  the  car  round  an'  find  myself  on  some  helluva 
lousy  road  that  shakes  up  my  liver  like  a  broncho. 
About  five  miles  down  this  road  I  see  a  Mex  sittin'  on 
the  side  of  the  road,  smokin'  a  cigarette  an'  thinkin' — 
which  is  what  Mexicans  is  always  doin'  when  they  ain't 
tryin'  to  come  the  neat  stuff  with  a  dame  or  makin'  a 
swell  try  to  stick  the  other  guy  who  is  one  jump  ahead 
of  'em  on  the  same  game. 

I  pull  up  an'  ask  him  if  he  knows  a  jane  called  Senora 
Paulette  Benito  who  is  livin'  in  some  hacienda  around 
here,  an'  after  gettin'  over  a  lotta  surprise  at  findin'  an 
Americano  who  speaks  his  own  lingo  he  says  yes,  an'  he 
tells  me  how  to  make  this  place  which  is  about  six  miles 
from  where  we  are. 

After  stickin'  me  for  two  cigarettes  an'  thereby 
provin'  that  there  ain't  even  one  Mex  who  will  even 
give  you  some  information  for  nothin'  I  ease  off  an'  ten 
minutes  later  I  see  the  hacienda. 

It  is  a  swell  little  dump.  It  is  all  white  an'  stuck  on 
the  side  of  a  little  hill  with  a  lotta  tropical  stuff  an'  cac- 
tus around  behind  it.  There  are  some  white  palisades 
around  the  front  an'  an  old-fashioned  rancho  gate,  an' 
I  drive  in,  get  outa  the  car  an'  walk  up  to  the  door. 
There  is  a  big  knocker  an'  I  bang  plenty. 

Pretty  soon  the  door  opens  an'  a  Mexican  jane  stands 
lookin'  at  me.  She  is  as  ugly  as  a  gorilla,  an'  by  the  looks 
of  her  pan  I  figure  that  there  is  damn  little  Spanish 
about  her.  Maybe  she  had  a  Spanish  mother  about  ten 

137 


DAMES       DON     T      CARE 

generations  back  who  didn't  know  how  to  say  no  to 
Great  Leapin'  Moose  or  whatever  the  local  chief's  mon- 
niker  was,  an'  since  then  her  ancestors  ain't  met  up  with 
anybody  except  Indians. 

I  say  good  night  very  polite  an'  I  ask  her  if  I  can  talk 
with  the  Senora  Benito  an'  she  gets  very  excited  an5 
says  that  the  Senora  ain't  around  an'  that  she  is  at  some 
dump  called  the  Casa  de  Oro,  after  which  we  go  inta  a 
huddle  an'  eventually  I  find  out  that  this  Casa  de  Oro 
is  the  nearest  thing  they  got  to  a  road  house  around 
these  parts.  She  tells  me  that  I  can  know  this  dump  by 
the  lamp  that  is  hangin'  outside  an'  I  say  thanks  a  lot 
an'  scram. 

I  go  on  down  the  road  an'  after  a  bit  I  see  this  Casa  de 
Oro.  It  is  an  ordinary  adobe  house  standin'  off  the  road 
with  an  old  Spanish  lamp  hangin'  outside.  I  drive  the 
car  off  the  road  an'  park  it  around  by  the  side  of  the 
house  an'  I  go  in. 

There  ain't  anybody  around,  but  I  can  hear  the  sound 
of  some  guy  playin'  a  guitar.  I  go  along  a  stone  passage, 
an'  at  the  other  end  I  stop  an'  look  with  my  eyes  bustin' 
because  the  place  is  like  a  fairyland. 

All  around  the  patio  at  the  back  there  is  an  adobe 
wall,  an'  fixed  on  this  wall  is  a  lotta  trellis  work.  There 
is  flowers  an'  things  stuck  all  over  this  trellis  an'  swung 
across  the  top  from  side  to  side  is  a  lotta  candle  lamps. 

All  around  the  patio  are  tables  with  people  sittin' 
around.  The  guy  playin'  the  guitar  is  standin'  over  in 
the  far  corner  lookin'  like  he  was  nuts — he  is  so  carried 
away  with  the  song  he  is  singin'.  In  the  middle  of  the 
patio  there  is  a  sorta  smooth  stone  floor  about  twenty 
feet  square. 

I  sit  down  at  a  table.  Mosta  the  guys  turn  around 
138 


HEY   PAULETTE! 

an'  take  a  look  at  me  like  I  come  out  of  some  museum, 
an'  after  a  minute  some  Mexican  waiter  comes  an'  does 
a  big  bowin'  act  an'  asks  what  is  my  pleasure. 

I  tell  him  that  my  pleasure  is  usually  dames,  but  that 
at  the  moment  I'll  take  a  glass  of  tequila.  Then  I  ask 
him  if  he  knows  the  Senora  Benito. 

He  nods  an'  makes  a  gesture  towards  the  dancin' 
space,  an'  as  I  look  over  a  couple  get  up  an'  start  dancin'. 
I  look  over  an'  I  see  that  the  dame  is  American  an'  I 
know  that  this  is  Paulette. 

Boy  is  she  good  or  is  she?  Get  this:  I  seen  plenty  janes 
an'  I'm  tellin'  you  that  this  Paulette  has  got  the  makin's. 
She  is  one  swell  bundle  of  woman  an'  I  get  thinkin'  that 
maybe  if  I  wasn't  so  busy  on  this  case  I  would  like  to 
get  around  an'  try  out  my  personality  on  this  baby. 

She  is  a  honey.  She  is  as  cute  as  Henrietta,  but  in  a 
different  way.  She  is  as  different  like  a  pineapple  is  to  a 
plum. 

She  has  got  curves  that  woulda  made  King  Solomon 
sign  off  the  roster  an'  turn  into  a  one-woman  man,  an' 
she  has  got  the  sorta  style  that  woulda  made  that  Roman 
baby  they  called  Juno  look  lika  case  of  gallopin'  con- 
sumption. If  Henry  the  Eighth  coulda  taken  one  peek 
at  her  ankles  he  woulda  figured  to  have  got  himself  born 
about  six  centuries  later  just  so's  he  coulda  given  Anne 
Boleyn  a  quick  bum's  rush  an'  made  this  Paulette  top 
sergeant  in  the  royal  runaround  squad. 

An'  can  she  dance?  I  have  seen  dames  dance  plenty 
an'  I  reckon  that  she  can  swing  a  mean  hip.  I  tell  you 
she  is  as  supple  as  a  snake,  an'  as  she  turns  around  in 
the  tango  she  is  dancin'  I  catch  a  look  at  her  white  teeth 
flashin'  an'  see  her  red  mouth  smilin'  up  at  the  guy  she 
is  dancin'  with,  an'  I  start  thinkin'  that  dames  are  very 

139 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

interestin'  things  an'  that  I  would  like  to  know  very 
much  just  what  a  swell  dame  like  this  was  doin'  kickin' 
around  with  a  cheap  mug  like  Granworth  Aymes. 

An'  the  guy  is  good  too.  He  is  wearin'  tight  black 
Mexican  pants  with  a  silk  shirt  an'  a  bolero  jacket.  He 
has  got  a  silver  cord  in  his  shirt  an'  all  the  trimmin's. 
He  is  a  tall,  wiry  lookin'  cuss,  with  a  lotta  black  hair 
an'  a  little  black  moustache.  He  dances  swell  an'  I  reck- 
on that  if  this  guy  went  to  Hollywood  he  would  prob- 
ably be  such  a  success  that  maybe  he  could  get  married 
to  some  film  star  for  a  coupla  months  before  she  got 
sick  of  ante-ing  up  all  the  time  to  keep  this  palooka  in 
hair-oil. 

He  also  looks  dangerous  to  me.  He  has  got  that  sorta 
wicked  look  like  a  rattlesnake,  only  I  reckon  that  this 
baby  wouldn't  even  rattle  before  he  started  spittin'. 

After  a  bit  the  music  stops  an'  they  sit  down  again. 
I  sit  at  my  table  sippin'  the  tequila  an'  watchin'  them. 
You  gotta  understand  that  it  is  not  quite  so  easy  for  me 
this  side  of  the  border  an'  as  I  don't  wanta  get  mixed  up 
with  the  local  cops  I  have  gotta  play  my  hand  easy. 

Lookin'  at  Paulette  I  try  an'  make  up  my  mind  as  to 
how  I  am  goin'  to  play  this  thing,  but  lookin'  at  her 
don't  help  me  any.  You  never  know  how  a  dame  is 
goin'  to  take  anything.  You  never  know  with  females; 
whatever  you  do  they  ain't  satisfied. 

I  remember  hearin'  about  some  high-hat  butler  in 
some  swell  dame's  house  in  England.  One  day  this  but- 
ler guy  busts  into  the  bathroom  just  when  the  dame  is 
takin'  a  shower.  Now  this  butler  has  gotta  lotta  tact  so 
he  just  says  "Excuse  me,  Sir,"  an'  scrams,  an'  thinks  that 
he  has  got  himself  outa  that  one  very  good. 

140 


HEY      P AULETTE ! 

But  he  didn't  feel  so  good  next  day  when  she  made 
him  go  an'  get  his  sight  tested. 

So  I  just  sit  there  an'  just  as  I  am  beginnin'  to  get 
tired  of  stickin'  around,  Paulette  looks  my  way  an* 
sorta  gives  me  the  once  over,  after  which  she  gives  me  a 
sorta  little  smile. 

I  reckon  that  this  is  only  because  she  reckons  that  I 
am  an  American  in  Mexico,  but  I  act  quick.  I  get  up 
an'  I  ease  over  to  her  table  an'  I  say  how  are  you  an' 
haven't  we  met  some  place  before. 

She  says  she  don't  remember  me  but  maybe  she  has 
met  me  somewhere. 

"Anyhow,  lady,  I've  been  waitin'  years  to  meet  you," 
I  tell  her.  "My  name's  Caution — Lemmy  Caution — an' 
I  wanta  have  a  little  talk  with  you  some  time." 

"Sit  down,  Mr.  Caution,"  she  says,  "an'  have  a  drink. 
This  is  Senor  Luis  Daredo." 

I  sit  down.  The  Mexican  gives  me  a  sorta  look  that 
might  mean  anything.  I  reckon  he  ain't  so  pleased  with 
my  bustin'  in  like  this.  He  just  nods. 

I  send  the  waiter  to  get  the  tequila  that  I  have  left  on 
my  table.  While  I  am  waitin'  for  it  I  see  her  watchin' 
me  sorta  interested,  with  a  little  smile  playin'  around 
her  red  mouth. 

"And  what  was  it  you  wanted  to  know,  Mr.  Cau- 
tion?" she  says.  "I'll  be  glad  to  help  you." 

I  look  at  her  quick  an'  see  a  big  laugh  in  her  eyes. 

I  give  myself  a  cigarette. 

"It's  this  way,  Mrs.  Benito,"  I  tell  her.  "I'm  makin'  a 
few  inquiries  about  a  guy  called  Granworth  Aymes  who 
bumped  himself  off  last  January  in  New  York.  I 
thought  that  maybe  you  could  help  me.  But  I  reckon 

141 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

that  we  can't  talk  here  very  well.  Maybe  I  can  take  you 
back  home  some  time  an'  have  a  little  talk  there." 

She  stops  smilin'. 

"Perhaps  that  wouldn't  be  convenient,"  she  says. 
"You  know,  Mr.  Caution,  this  is  Mexico — not  the 
United  States,  and  possibly  I  don't  want  to  talk  about 
Granworth  Aymes.  Perhaps  you're  wasting  your  time 
here." 

It  is  obvious  to  me  that  this  dame  is  bein'  fresh. 

"I  get  you,  lady,"  I  tell  her.  "You  mean  that  it  ain't 
possible  to  hold  anybody  here  as  a  material  witness 
without  a  lotta  funny  business  an'  office  stuff  at  Mexi- 
cali.  Well,  that's  as  may  be,  but  if  I  was  you  I  guess  I'd 
do  what  I  want  an'  not  make  too  much  trouble  over  it, 
an'  what  will  you  have  to  drink?" 

I  order  some  drinks  for  all  of  us.  The  Mexican  is 
watchin'  me  like  I  was  a  bad  nightmare. 

She  starts  smilin'  again. 

"I  like  your  direct  methods,  Mr.  Caution,"  she  says, 
"but  I  still  don't  see  why  I  should  make  appointments 
to  talk  over  somebody's  death  with  people  I  don't 
know." 

"O.K.  lady,"  I  say.  "In  that  case  I'll  go  back  over  the 
border  an'  get  extradition  for  you  as  a  material  witness. 
Then  I'll  take  you  back  an'  hold  you.  It'll  take  me  two 
days  to  get  a  Federal  plea  for  your  extradition  through 
with  the  Mexican  authorities,  an'  if  they  ain't  quick 
enough  for  me  maybe  I'll  try  something  else.  I'm  a  Fed- 
eral Agent  an'  I  got  a  badge  in  my  pocket  that  ain't  very 
much  use  on  this  side  of  the  border  but  maybe  it's 
enough  for  me  to  get  hold  of  the  local  Rurales  officer 
an'  tell  him  you've  got  a  pinched  passport.  Even  if  it 

142 


HEY  PAULETTE! 

ain't  true  it's  goin'  to  make  things  plenty  tough  for 
you.  Get  me?" 

She  is  just  goin'  to  say  something  when  Daredo  puts 
his  hand  on  her  arm  an'  stops  her. 

"Senor,"  he  says,  "thees  ees  Mehiko.  I  don'  like  that 
you  talk  to  thees  sefiora  like  you  talk.  I  don'  like  you 
at  all.  You  get  out  of  thees  place  queek  or  else  I  order 
them  to  t'row  you  out.  Sabe?" 

"Nuts,"  I  tell  this  guy.  "I  don't  like  you  neither,  an' 
I  reckon  that  you'll  have  to  get  all  your  friends  around 
you  before  you  can  throw  me  outa  any  place,  an'  just 
so's  you'll  know  that  I  don't  mean  maybe,  get  a  load  of 
this." 

I  smack  him  across  the  puss  an'  he  goes  off  the  chair 
pronto.  He  gets  up  an'  comes  around  the  table  an'  I 
bust  him  another  one.  Some  guy  at  the  next  table  gets 
up  an'  starts  emittin'  a  lotta  Mexican  noise  an'  easin* 
over  to  me  so  it  looks  as  if  I've  gotta  start  something. 

I  stick  my  hand  under  my  coat  an'  pull  the  gun. 
Around  me  I  can  see  a  lotta  ugly  mugs  an'  I  reckon  that 
I  gotta  fix  this  job. 

"Listen,  lady,"  I  say  to  Paulette.  "Get  a  load  of  this. 
If  anybody  starts  anything  around  here,  I'm  goin'  to 
give  'em  the  heat  first  an'  talk  afterwards.  I'm  takin* 
you  back  to  your  own  place  for  a  little  talk  an'  if  you 
don't  like  that  I'll  take  you  right  over  the  border  now 
an'  smack  you  in  the  first  sheriff's  lock-up  in  Arizona  I 
come  to.  You  make  up  your  mind  what  you're  havin' 
— your  own  sittin'  room  or  the  hoosegow — I  don't  give 
a  damn." 

She  gets  up. 

"It's  all  right,  Luis,"  she  says.  "You  don't  have  to 
143 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

get  excited.   Maybe  I'll  go  along  with  Mr.  Caution  here 
an'  straighten  this  out." 

"That's  talkin',"  I  tell  her,  "an'  I  don't  even  mind  if 
Luis  does  get  excited.  Any  time  he  wants  somebody  to 
kick  them  tight  pants  off  him  I'll  elect  myself  for  the 
job.  Maybe  he's  a  big  guy  around  here,  but  to  me  he's 
just  a  big  sissy  with  whiskers.  Come  on,  lady." 

I  put  some  money  on  the  table  an'  we  go  out.  I  have 
still  got  the  Luger  in  my  hand  an'  over  my  shoulder  I 
can  see  Luis  lookin'  at  me  like  a  tiger  with  a  gumboil. 
This  guy  is  certainly  not  so  pleased. 

We  get  in  the  car  an'  we  go  off.  Outa  the  corner  of 
my  eye  I  can  see  Paulette  lookin'  at  me.  She  is  wearin' 
some  swell  perfume  an'  I  can  just  sniff  it.  I  get  to  com- 
parin'  it  with  Henrietta's  "Carnation"  an'  I  ain't  quite 
certain  which  I  like  the  best. 

"That's  a  swell  perfume  you  got,  Paulette,"  I  tell  her. 
"I  could  go  for  that  stuff.  I  always  was  keen  on  nice 
smells." 

I  can  hear  her  gurglin'  in  the  dark.  I  told  you  this 
Paulette  is  a  helluva  piece. 

"You've  got  a  sweet  nerve,"  she  says.  "You  burst 
into  the  Casa,  smack  Luis  down,  take  me  away  just 
when  I'm  beginning  to  enjoy  myself,  and  then  tell  me 
that  you  like  my  perfume.  I  guess  you  must  go  well 
with  your  lady  friends,  but  you  ought  to  remember  this 
is  Mexico." 

"You  don't  say,  Paulette,"  I  tell  her.  "So  what?  I 
been  in  Mexico  before,  and  it  ain't  ever  frightened  me 
any.  Say,  did  you  ever  hear  of  a  Mexican  called  Caldesa 
Martinguez — their  ace  stick-up  guy?" 

She  nods. 

144 


HEY  PAULETTE! 

"Well,"  I  go  on.  "This  guy  got  pretty  big  an'  he 
reckoned  to  get  over  the  border  one  day  an'  pull  a  fast 
one  on  the  Arizona  mail  car.  He  pulled  a  fast  one — 
three  times.  First  he  stuck  up  the  mail  car;  second 
time  he  stuck  it  up  an'  cut  the  driver's  ear  oflf,  an'  the 
third  time  he  pumped  so  much  lead  into  the  driver  an' 
the  guard  that  they  both  looked  like  ammunition 
factories  when  we  found  'em." 

I  get  out  my  cigarette  pack  with  my  left  hand  an' 
give  it  to  her.  She  lights  a  couple — one  for  herself  an' 
one  for  me. 

"O.K.,"  I  say.  "Well,  the  U.S.  authorities  got  plenty 
mad  at  this  guy.  So  they  send  some  wise  guy  down  to 
the  border  an'  this  guy  pulls  a  coupla  fake  stick-ups, 
an'  eventually  Martinguez  gets  to  hear  of  him  an'  cuts 
him  in  on  the  business.  The  wise  guy  plays  along  with 
Martinguez,  an'  one  night  gets  him  good  an'  high  on 
doctored  liquor.  Then  he  ties  him  on  a  horse  an'  runs 
him  over  the  border  to  a  nice  lock-up  an'  a  six  foot  drop 
— they  still  hang  'em  in  Arizona. 

"The  joke  was  that  when  Martinguez  arrives  at  the 
lock-up  he  is  nearly  nuts  because  the  wise  guy  has 
filled  the  seat  of  his  pants  with  cactus  spines  an'  stingin' 
nettles,  an'  every  time  the  horse  bumps  Martinguez  lets 
go  a  howl  like  he  was  demented.  If  you've  ever  sat  on  a 
cactus  spine  you'll  get  what  I  mean.  I  tell  you  this 
bad  man  was  hard-hearted,  but  when  they  come  to 
execute  him  his  seat  was  so  tender  that  hangin'  was 
just  a  sweet  relief." 

"Very  nice,"  she  says,  "an'  who  was  the  wise  guy?" 

"A  palooka  name  of  Caution,"  I  tell  her  sorta  modest. 
"Lemmy  Caution  was  the  name." 

145 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

We  go  on  drivin'.  It  is  a  lousy  road  an'  I  haveta 
concentrate.  She  don't  say  nothin'.  Suddenly  she  puts 
her  hand  on  my  knee. 

"You're  a  helluva  man,  Lemmy,"  she  says.  "After 
these  .  .  ."  She  sorta  sighs.  "It's  fine  meeting  you." 

She  looks  at  me  sideways. 

I  keep  my  eye  on  the  road.  It  looks  to  me  like  this 
dame  is  fallin'  for  me  too  fast  even  if  she  is  a  quick 
worker,  but  I  play  along. 

"Gee,  that's  swell,"  I  tell  her.  "I  reckon  you're  the 
sorta  dame  I've  been  lookin'  for.  A  swell  dame  an'  a 
swell  night,"  I  say,  noddin'  my  head  at  the  moon,  "an' 
what  more  could  any  guy  ask?" 

She  don't  say  nothin'.  She  just  lets  go  another  big 
sigh.  There  is  silence  for  a  bit  an'  then  she  says: 

"Listen,  Lemmy,  what's  all  this  stuff  about  Gran- 
worth  Aymes?" 

"Oh,  it  ain't  nothin'  much,"  I  tell  her.  "I  ain't 
really  interested  in  Aymes.  I'm  interested  in  a  little 
counterfeit  job  that's  sorta  got  mixed  up  with  it.  I'll 
tell  you  about  it  in  a  minute." 

She  don't  answer  an'  I  figure  she's  doin'  some 
heavy  thinkin'.  Pretty  soon  we  pull  up  at  the  hacienda. 
The  Mexican  jane  is  waitin'  in  the  doorway  an'  she 
takes  my  hat.  The  place  is  pretty  swell  inside — the 
furniture  is  good  an'  it  looks  like  Paulette  knows  how 
to  fix  herself. 

"We  go  into  some  room  on  the  right  of  the  hallway. 
Paulette  points  to  a  big  rocking  chair  that  is  standin' 
out  on  a  veranda  that  runs  along  one  side  of  the  house. 
I  go  an'  sit  down  an'  give  myself  a  cigarette  an'  she  goes 
over  an'  starts  mixin'  high  balls.  I  can  hear  the  ice 
clinkin'. 

146 


HEY  PAULETTE! 

In  a  minute  she  comes  over  with  a  drink  in  each 
hand.  She  gives  me  mine  an'  sits  herself  down  in  a 
chair  opposite  me. 

"Well,  Lemmy,"  she  says,  "shoot." 

I  give  her  a  cigarette  an'  light  it.  As  I  am  holdin' 
the  match  she  looks  up  into  my  eyes  an'  I'm  tellin' 
you  that  I  get  an  idea  that  she  knows  more  about 
wireless  telegraphy  than  Marconi.  It  was  one  helluva 
look.  I  go  an'  sit  down  again. 

"Here's  the  way  it  is,"  I  tell  her.  "This  guy  Gran- 
worth  Aymes  bumps  himself  off  last  January.  Some 
time  before  he  does  this  he  has  given  his  wife  two 
hundred  grand  worth  of  Federal  bonds.  O.K.  After  his 
suicide  she  gets  up  to  some  dump  near  Palm  Springs 
an'  tries  to  cash  one  of  these  bonds  at  the  bank.  Well, 
it  is  phoney.  I  get  stuck  on  this  job  an'  I've  been 
musclin'  around  plenty,  but  I  ain't  doin'  myself  any 
good.  I  know  just  as  much  about  this  thing  as  when  I 
started  on  it." 

While  I  am  talkin'  she  is  lookin'  out  across  the 
Mesa.  I  can  just  see  the  outline  of  her  face  in  the  dark, 
but  it  don't  tell  me  anythin'. 

"Now  I've  got  a  hunch,"  I  go  on  still  watchin'  her. 
"I've  got  a  hunch  that  this  dame  Henrietta  knows 
plenty  about  this  counterfeitin'  business,  but  I  can't 
find  any  way  to  make  this  baby  talk.  While  I  am  jump- 
in'  around  on  this  job  Langdon  Burdell  who  was 
secretary  to  Aymes  give  me  an  idea  that  Granworth 
didn't  commit  suicide  at  all;  that  he  was  bumped  off,  and 
that  Henrietta  bumped  him  off,  an'  between  you  an'  me, 
honey,  that's  just  the  way  it  looks  to  me. 

"But  supposin'  for  the  sake  of  argument  I  prove  that 
she  bumped  off  Granworth  an'  pinch  her  for  it,  what 

147 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

good  do  I  do.  I  still  ain't  goin'  to  find  out  where  she  got 
those  phoney  bonds  an'  who  made  'em,  because  if  she  is 
stuck  up  on  a  first  degree  murder  charge  she  knows 
damn  well  she  ain't  goin'  to  do  herself  no  good  or  get 
any  time  off  or  save  herself  from  the  chair  by  squealin' 
about  the  counterfeitin'. 

"O.K.  Well,  I  find  out  that  you  used  to  get  around 
with  Granworth  Aymes  plenty,  an*  I  reckon  maybe  you 
can  help  me  on  this  job.  If  Aymes  was  stuck  on  you  I 
reckon  he  told  you  plenty  about  Henrietta,  because 
guys  always  tell  the  'other  woman'  a  lot,  an'  maybe 
you  can  slip  me  a  little  information  rememberin'  all 
the  time  that  the  thing  I  want  to  know  is  this: 

"First,  did  Aymes  give  her  the  real  bonds  or  did  he 
slip  her  counterfeit  ones?  Second,  did  he  slip  her  the 
real  ones  an'  has  she  got  'em  salted  down  some  place 
an'  got  somebody  to  give  her  a  duplicate  set  of  phoney 
bonds  so's  she  could  have  it  both  ways,  takin'  advantage 
of  the  fact  that  everybody  would  think  she  had  the  real 
ones  an'  so  the  phoney  ones  she  was  passin'  was  O.K.?" 

I  throw  my  cigarette  stub  over  the  veranda. 

"So  I  want  you  to  talk,  Paulette,"  I  tell  her,  "an' 
plenty,  because  they  always  say  that  the  'other  woman' 
knows  the  works,  an'  it  looks  to  me  like  you  are  the 
'other  woman'." 

She  turns  round  in  her  chair  an'  she  looks  at  me. 

"Nuts,"  she  says.  "It  looks  to  me  as  if  somebody's 
stringing  you  along,  but  I  can  certainly  help  you, 
Lemmy." 

She  gets  up  an'  she  stands  leanin*  against  the  veranda 
rail  lookin'  down  at  me. 

"Listen,  Mr.  'G'  man,"  she  says,  "you  can  take  it 
from  me  straight  that  Henrietta  Aymes  got  those 

148 


HEY  PAULETTE! 

phoney  bonds  from  some  place  and  she  knew  they  were 
phoney.  I'll  tell  you  why.  Granworth  Aymes  didn't 
give  her  any  $200, 000 's  worth  of  registered  Federal 
bonds.  I  know  he  didn't!" 

"You  don't  say,"  I  tell  her.  "But  listen,  honey," 
I  go  on.  "We  know  he  had  got  them  bonds.  "We  know 
he  bought  'em.  If  he  didn't  give  'em  to  her,  where  are 
they?  Who  did  he  give  'em  to?" 

She  starts  laughin',  a  little  soft  gurglin'  laugh  that 
makes  me  think  of  all  sorts  of  things." 

"I'll  tell  you  who  he  gave  them  to,  Lemmy,"  she  says. 
"He  gave  them  to  me." 

Her  face  gets  tense  an'  the  smile  goes  off  it. 

"Now  listen  to  me,  big  boy,"  she  says.  "I'm  going 
to  tell  you  plenty.  If  anybody  says  I  was  running 
around  with  Granworth  Aymes  then  that  person  is  a 
lousy  liar.  I  knew  Granworth  Aymes  and  I'm  not 
going  to  say  that  I  disliked  him  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
he  did  my  husband  down  for  plenty.  Now  listen: 

"Maybe  they  didn't  tell  you  I've  got  a  husband. 
He's  away  down  at  Zoni,  living  in  a  doctor's  house. 
The  poor  guy's  dying  of  consumption.  They  reckon 
he's  got  about  three  months  to  live. 

"Granworth  Aymes  was  his  broker,  an*  two-three 
years  ago  my  husband  was  worth  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 
million  dollars.  He  wasn't  satisfied  with  that.  He  had 
to  have  some  more,  so  he  starts  playin'  the  market 
with  Aymes  buying  stocks  and  bonds.  And  what 
happens?  He  loses  practically  all  the  money  he's  got, 
but  it  wasn't  till  just  before  last  Christmas  that  he 
found  out  that  it  hadn't  been  lost  on  the  stock  market. 
Aymes  had  taken  him  for  it.  He'd  made  a  sucker  outa 
the  poor  sap. 

149 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

"Just  at  this  time  Rudy  gets  examined  by  a  specialist. 
The  specialist  tells  him  that  the  only  chance  he's  got 
if  he  wants  to  live  even  for  another  year  is  to  come  down 
and  live  in  a  place  like  this  where  the  climate's  right. 

"Well,  you  can  bet  I  didn't  feel  so  good  when  I  dis- 
covered that  Granworth  had  practically  grabbed  off 
every  bean  that  Rudy  had  in  the  world,  so  I  reckoned 
I'd  go  along  to  New  York  and  have  a  show-down  with 
this  Granworth  Aymes.  I  reckoned  this  wasn't  going 
to  be  too  difficult  because  Granworth  had  always  been 
trying  to  make  play  for  me  but  I  wasn't  falling  for 
it — I  didn't  like  his  style,  at  least  not  so's  you'd  notice  it. 

"I  go  along  to  New  York,  and  I  saw  Granworth 
Aymes  on  January  10,  two  days  before  he  com- 
mitted suicide,  and  I  told  him  straight  that  I  had  heard 
that  he'd  made  a  lot  of  money  playing  the  market.  I 
told  him  that  unless  he  cashed  in  good  and  quick  I 
wasn't  going  to  waste  any  more  time  talking,  I  was 
going  to  the  District  Attorney  to  have  him  put  in  jail 
for  defrauding  Rudy  the  last  two  years. 

"Granworth  had  a  look  at  me  and  he  knew  that  I 
meant  it.  He  told  me  to  come  back  next  morning.  He 
said  he'd  give  me  the  money.  On  the  morning  of 
January  11  I  went  and  saw  him  at  his  office  and  he 
gave  me  $200, 000 's  worth  of  those  registered  bonds. 
He  also  told  me  to  tell  nobody  about  it  because  these 
were  the  bonds  that  he'd  made  over  to  his  wife,  that 
he'd  got  them  out  of  the  safe  deposit  where  they  were 
being  kept  for  her.  I  gave  him  a  receipt  for  them  and 
that's  the  money  that  Rudy  and  I  came  down  here  on. 
That's  the  money  we're  living  on  now." 

"Listen  sister,"  I  interrupt,  "those  were  registered 
bonds.  And  they  were  registered  in  the  name  of  Hen- 

150 


HEY  PAULETTE! 

rietta  Aymes.   How'd  you  manage  to  get  'em  cashed?" 

She  looks  uneasy.  Forgery  and  false  impersonation 
don't  make  life  any  simpler  for  Paulette.  "How  do 
you  suppose?"  she  says,  and  then  she  hurries  on. 
"And  if  Granworth  Aymes  bumped  himself  off  the 
day  afterwards  then  I  reckon  it  was  because  he  had  a 
show-down  with  his  wife.  I  reckon  she'd  found  that 
the  bonds  were  gone  and  made  it  hot  for  him,  or  maybe 
— "  she  says  sorta  soft,  "maybe  Henrietta  got  annoyed. 
I  reckon  I'd  get  annoyed  if  he'd  done  me  out  of  two 
hundred  grand.  Maybe  she  slugged  him,  you  never 
know. 

"Well,  well,  well,"  I  say.  "So  that's  the  way  it  goes, 
hey?  It  looks  like  we've  got  this  job  cleaned  up.  So 
Henrietta,  findin'  that  the  bonds  are  gone,  thinks  that 
Granworth  has  got  rid  of  'em  somewhere  else  an* 
promptly  gets  somebody  to  make  her  a  new  lot." 

I  give  myself  another  cigarette. 

"Listen,  Paulette,"  I  say.  "Is  there  anybody  who 
could  confirm  this  story.  I  mean  the  part  about  Gran- 
worth Aymes  makin'  a  sucker  outa  Rudy  an'  gettin' 
all  that  money  off  him?" 

"Surely,"  she  says,  "Burdell  can.  He  knows  all  about 
it.  He  knew  what  Aymes  was  doing,  but  he  was  only 
a  secretary.  It  wasn't  his  business  to  butt  in." 

"O.K."  I  say.  "I  get  it.  It  looks  like  this  Henrietta 
Aymes  is  a  pretty  cute  number,"  I  say.  "I  don't  reckon 
that  there's  any  doubt  that  she  bumped  off  Granworth. 
All  right.  Now  maybe  I  can  get  ahead.  By  the  way, 
Paulette,"  I  go  on.  "Did  you  say  that  this  husband  of 
yours,  Rudy,  is  around  here  with  some  doctor?  Where's 
this  Zoni?" 

"It's  about  forty  miles  away,"  she  says,  "and  if  you 

151 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

go  and  see  Rudy  and  ask  him  any  questions,  go  easy 
with  him.  The  doctor,  Madrales,  says  the  poor  guy's 
only  got  about  another  eight  or  nine  weeks  to  go,  and 
I  don't  want  him  worried  too  much." 

I  get  up  and  put  my  arm  around  her  shoulder. 

"Don't  you  worry,  Paulette,"  I  say.  "I'll  go  easy  with 
him.  I  don't  want  to  ask  him  anythin'  much.  I  just 
wanta  confirm  that  stuff  you  told  me  about  Aymes 
takin'  him  for  the  dough." 

She  is  standin'  pretty  close  to  me  an'  I  can  see  some 
tears  come  into  her  eyes.  I  feel  pretty  sorry  for  Paulette, 
because  after  all  even  if  she  is  kickin'  around  with  this 
Luis  Daredo,  what's  a  dame  to  do?  I  reckon  she  has  to 
do  somethin'  to  keep  her  mind  off  the  fact  that  her 
husband  is  slowly  handin'  in  his  checks. 

"Life  can  be  tough,"  she  says.  "Listen,  Lemmy,  go 
get  yourself  another  drink.  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute.  I 
got  to  ring  Daredo,  that  guy's  doing  some  business  for 
me — I'm  thinking  of  buying  this  place  and  he's  fixing 
it — and  I  don't  want  to  get  in  bad  with  him." 

"O.K.,"  I  say. 

She  goes  outa  the  room  an'  I  mix  myself  another 
high  ball  an'  go  back  to  the  veranda.  Standin'  there 
drinkin'  it,  it  looks  as  if  I  am  beginnin'  to  make  some 
sense  outa  this  case  after  all.  One  thing  is  stickin'  out 
a  foot  an'  that  is  that  Henrietta  found  out  that  the 
original  bonds — the  real  ones — was  gone.  She  gets 
herself  a  phoney  lot  made  an'  she  gets  out  to  Palm 
Springs  an'  thinks  she  stands  a  chance  of  changin'  'em 
there.  That's  how  it  looks  to  me.  I  have  just  finished 
my  drink  when  Paulette  comes  back.  She  comes  straight 
up  to  me  an'  she  puts  her  hands  on  my  shoulders  an'  she 
looks  straight  into  my  eyes. 

152 


HEY  PAULETTE! 

"You  know,  Lemmy,"  she  says,  "a  woman  has  a 
tough  time.  I  reckon  I've  had  one.  A  girl  has  only  got 
to  make  one  mistake  an'  she  pays  plenty  for  it.  Mine 
was  in  marrying  Rudy.  He  was  always  a  weakling 
and  I  guess  I  was  sorry  for  him.  If  I'd  have  married 
a  man  like  you,"  she  says,  "things  might  have  been  very 
different." 

She  comes  a  little  closer  to  me. 

"When  you've  got  this  job  finished,  Lemmy,"  she 
says,  "if  ever  you're  tired  or  you  need  a  rest,  you'll 
always  find  me  down  here  an'  I'll  be  glad  to  see  you." 

"That's  swell,  Paulette,"  I  say.  "That's  a  little 
matter  I'll  take  up  with  you  pretty  soon.  In  the 
meantime  I  got  to  get  this  job  finished,  so  I  reckon  I'll 
go  over  to  Zoni  an'  have  a  few  words  with  Rudy,  an' 
I  won't  even  be  tough  with  him." 

"All  right,  Lemmy,"  she  says,  an*  I  can  see  that  her 
eyes  are  full  of  tears.  "You  get  along  and  see  Rudy  and 
you  can  give  him  my  love.  Just  don't  say  anything 
about  you  finding  me  with  Luis  Daredo  tonight.  I 
wouldn't  want  Rudy  to  get  any  ideas  about  my  getting 
around  with  good  looking  Mexicanos." 

She  tells  me  the  way  to  get  to  this  Zoni,  an*  she 
stands  in  the  doorway  watching  me  as  I  drive  off. 

Me — I  am  doing  a  little  more  thinkin'.  I  am  wonder- 
in'  why  she  couldn'ta  waited  until  we  finished  talkin' 
before  she  put  that  call  through  to  Daredo. 

I  reckon  that  I  am  a  sort  of  suspicious  guy.  An* 
I  reckon  that  this  Paulette  fell  for  me  too  easy.  She 
is  certainly  a  swell  number  but  she  can  still  play  me  for 
a  mug  if  she  feels  that  way. 

But  I  ain't  such  a  sucker.  Just  when  a  dame  thinks 
I'm  fallin' — well,  I  usually  ain't! 

153 


CHAPTER   X 

MEXICAN    STUFF 

I  DRIVE  along  pretty  slow  for  two  reasons.  First  of  all 
the  night  ain't  so  bright  as  it  could  be  an'  the  road  I  am 
on  is  not  so  hot  neither.  Second  I  am  turnin'  over  in 
my  mind  the  stuff  that  this  Paulette  dame  has  handed 
out,  an'  it  is  sure  one  helluva  story. 

Maybe  it's  true  because  believe  me  no  dame  with  as 
much  sense  as  Paulette  has  got  is  goin'  to  spin  a  lotta 
hooey  about  takin'  two  hundred  grand  off  a  guy  like 
Granworth  Aymes  unless  she  was  surely  entitled  to  it. 

An'  I  feel  pretty  sorry  for  the  husband — Rudy 
Benito.  I  get  a  picture  of  him  all  right.  I  can  just 
imagine  him  stringin'  along  with  Paulette,  playin' 
second  fiddle  to  her  all  the  time  an'  knowin'  that  he  had 
got  T.  B.  an'  that  it  was  goin'  to  get  him  in  the  long 
run.  I  can  sorta  see  this  guy  suddenly  findin'  out  that 
Granworth  has  taken  him  for  plenty  an'  gettin'  good 
an'  excited  about  it  an'  knowin'  that  maybe  the  amount 
of  time  that  he'd  got  to  stick  around  before  he  was  due 
for  a  casket  depended  on  whether  he  could  get  the  dough 
out  of  Granworth. 

But  there  is  something  that  I  cannot  get  an'  it  is 
this:  What  the  hell  was  Paulette  doin'  all  that  time 
while  Aymes  was  swindlin'  Rudy  out  of  his  dough? 
What  was  a  fly  dame  like  that  doin'  stickin'  around 
an'  not  gettin'  wise  to  it? 

An*   then   I  get   another  big  idea.    Supposin'   that 

154 


MEXICAN      STUFF 

Paulette  was  wise  to  it.  Supposin'  that  she  was  stuck 
on  Aymes  an'  knew  that  he  was  takin'  Rudy  for  the 
dough  an'  didn't  do  anything  about  it.  Then,  all  of  a 
sudden  she  hears  that  Rudy  is  goin'  to  die  unless  he  can 
get  away  some  place  where  the  climate  is  right  an'  have 
a  doctor  stickin'  around  all  the  time.  An'  she  feels  that 
she  ain't  been  so  hot.  She  feels  that  she  has  gotta  do 
something  to  try  an'  put  it  right.  Just  at  this  time 
Aymes  makes  a  killin'  on  the  stock  market  an'  Paulette 
weighs  in  an'  tells  him  that  unless  he  cashes  in  she  is 
goin'  to  blow  what  he  has  been  doin'  to  the  cops. 

Ain't  that  just  the  sorta  thing  that  a  dame  would 
do?  Wouldn't  it  be  like  a  dame  to  make  a  sucker  out 
of  her  husband  because  she  fancies  a  bum  guy  like 
Aymes,  but  when  she  finds  out  that  the  sucker  is  goin' 
to  die  she  goes  all  goofy  an'  tries  at  the  last  minute 
to  put  the  job  right,  an'  wouldn't  this  business  be  a 
first-class  motive  for  Henrietta  to  knock  off  Granworth? 

An'  then  something  else  hits  me  like  a  rock.  What 
about  that  letter  that  Henrietta  told  me  about.  Didn't 
she  say  that  she  got  an  unsigned  letter  from  some 
guy  tellin'  her  that  Granworth  was  playin'  around  with 
his  wife.  Didn't  she  say  that  this  guy  had  crossed  out 
the  words  "my  wife"  an'  put  in  instead  "this  woman." 
Ain't  you  got  it? 

It  -was  Rudy  Benito  who  sent  that  letter  to  Henrietta. 

Here's  my  new  idea  of  the  set-up:  Benito  gets  a 
hunch  that  Aymes  is  playin'  around  with  his  wife,  so 
he  writes  a  letter  to  Henrietta  and  tells  her  so,  but 
he  don't  sign  it.  O.K.  Then  Paulette  discovers  that 
Benito  is  as  sick  as  a  rat  an'  she  gets  all  washed  up  an' 

155 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

hates  herself  for  what  she  has  been  doin',  so  she  goes 
along  to  Granworth  an'  tells  him  he  has  got  to  kick 
in  with  the  dough. 

Granworth,  who  thinks  a  damn  sight  more  of  Paulette 
than  he  does  of  Henrietta,  hands  over  the  dough. 
Maybe  he  thinks  that  he  can  get  it  back  again  off 
Paulette  when  she  has  got  over  this  sorta  sentimental 
stuff  that  has  got  into  her  about  Rudy. 

O.K.  Then  Henrietta  comes  along  to  New  York  an' 
tells  Granworth  that  she  hears  he's  kickin'  around 
with  a  dame  an*  that  if  it  don't  stop  she  is  goin'  to 
divorce  him.  Granworth  cracks  back  that  if  she  does  he 
will  leave  the  country  rather  than  pay  her  alimony. 
Henrietta  says  back  that  she  don't  give  a  damn  if  he 
pays  her  alimony  or  not  because  she  has  got  the  two 
hundred  grand  in  registered  bonds.  Granworth  gets 
inta  one  helluva  rage  an'  tells  her  she  ain't  gotta  dime 
because  he  has  given  the  bonds  to  this  other  femme. 

An'  then  the  hey-hey  starts.  I  figure  that  this  news 
just  about  finishes  Henrietta.  I  figure  that  when  he 
tells  her  this,  Granworth  is  sittin'  in  his  car  just  gettin' 
ready  to  drive  off — maybe  she  is  sittin'  beside  him.  Well, 
she  is  so  burned  up  that  she  just  grabs  something  an' 
crowns  Granworth.  Then  she  finds  she's  killed  him  an' 
she  works  out  that  the  best  thing  to  do  is  to  drive  this 
guy  down  to  the  wharf  an'  put  a  good  front  up  for  the 
job  bein'  a  suicide. 

That's  the  way  it  looks. 

By  now  the  road  I  was  on  which  was  bad  anyhow 
has  got  worse.  It  has  got  narrow  an'  is  a  sorta  wide 
bridle  path  runnin'  up  between  the  foothills.  It  is 
plenty  dark  an'  I  cannot  see  very  well,  an'  I  am  drivin' 
slow  an'  concentratin'  on  the  road. 

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MEXICAN       STUFF 

Then  I  hit  something.  I  hit  a  coupla  rocks  that  are 
stuck  in  the  middle  of  the  road  an'  at  the  same  time 
somebody  jumps  on  the  runnin'  board  an'  hits  me  a 
smack  across  the  dome  with  something  that  feels  to 
me  just  like  the  Mexican  for  a  blackjack.  I  see  more 
stars  than  ever  told  a  movie  director  where  he  got  off 
an'  I  just  go  right  out  as  graceful  an'  as  quiet  as  a  baby. 

When  I  come  to  I  am  as  stiff  as  an  iron  girder.  The 
guys  who  have  brought  me  along  to  this  place  ain't 
been  at  all  gentle  with  me.  I  am  covered  with  dust  an' 
there  is  a  trickle  of  blood  down  my  coat  where  I  have 
been  bleedin'  from  the  crack  in  the  dome. 

My  feet  are  tied  up  with  cord  an'  my  hands  are  tied 
across  my  chest  with  enough  manila  rope  to  have 
started  a  marine  store. 

I  am  in  some  dump  that  looks  like  the  cellar  of  a 
small  house.  There  is  a  candle  burnin*  on  a  shelf  on 
the  other  side  of  the  room  an'  I  can  just  see  the 
watch  on  my  wrist.  It  is  nearly  eleven-thirty,  so  I 
figure  I  have  been  out  for  about  an  hour.  I  have 
been  just  chucked  up  against  the  wall  an'  left  there. 

I  don't  feel  so  good.  My  head  is  buzzin'  plenty  an' 
I  figure  who  ever  took  a  flop  at  me  with  that  club 
was  pullin'  his  weight  all  right.  Altogether  it  looks 
like  I  am  in  a  jam.  Just  who  has  taken  a  fancy  to  me 
like  this  so  that  they  have  to  corral  me  an'  chuck  me 
in  this  dump  I  don't  know,  although  I  have  gotta  pretty 
good  idea.  I  decide  I  had  better  get  some  action  pronto. 

I  work  myself  up  against  the  wall  an'  get  as  easy  as 
I  can  after  which  I  start  singin'  Cactus  Lizzie  good  an' 
loud.  This  sorta  works  because  after  five-ten  minutes  I 
hear  somebody  comin'  down  some  steps  an'  then  the 
door  in  the  corner  opens  an'  some  Mexican  dame  busts  in. 

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DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

She  is  carryin*  a  lantern,  an'  she  looks  like  a  coupla 
tarantulas  who  don't  like  each  other,  an'  she  weighs 
about  three  hundred  pounds.  I  guess  that  this  dame  is 
about  the  biggest  ever.  She  waddles  over  to  me  an' 
she  lifts  up  her  foot  an'  she  kicks  me  in  the  face  like  I 
was  a  football.  I'm  tellin'  you  that  this  daughter  of  a 
hellion  cops  me  right  on  the  top  of  the  nose  with  a 
boot  that  a  New  York  flatfoot  woulda  been  proud  to 
wear  an'  I  just  see  a  lot  more  stars  an'  I  go  as  sick  as  hell 
an'  go  out  again. 

I  come  round  pretty  soon.  I  am  drenched  with  dirty 
water  that  she  has  thrown  over  me  an'  my  face  is 
bleedin'  like  smoke  an'  she  stands  there  lookin'  at  me 
an'  havin'  one  helluva  time. 

Then  she  starts  in.  She  starts  bawlin'  me  out  in  a 
sorta  bastard  Spanish  that  I  can  just  understand  by 
keepin'  my  ears  flappin'  wide  open.  She  tells  me  all 
about  me.  She  tells  me  what  I  am  an'  what  she  hopes  is 
goin'  to  happen  to  me  an'  what  my  father  an'  mother 
was  an'  the  amazin'  an'  extraordinary  way  that  I  was 
born.  After  which  she  spills  some  stuff  an'  I  begin  to 
get  the  idea. 

She  tells  me  that  she  is  damn  glad  that  I  have  come 
around  here  doin'  my  stuff  all  over  the  place.  She 
tells  me  that  directly  I  got  my  foot  inside  the  Casa  de 
Oro  some  guy  recognised  me  as  the  dick  who  pulled  in 
Caldesa  Martinguez — the  guy  who  I  took  back  with 
stingin'  nettles  in  his  pants.  She  tells  me  that  this 
Caldesa  was  her  son  an'  that  by  the  time  they  are 
through  with  me,  bein'  boiled  in  prohibition  whisky 
would  just  be  sweet  dreamin'  to  what  I  am  goin'  to  go 
through.  She  tells  me  to  stick  around  an'  that  in  a 
coupla  minutes,  after  he  has  got  through  thinkin'  up 

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MEXICAN      STUFF 

just  what  he  is  goin'  to  do  to  me,  her  other  son  is 
comin'  down  to  start  operations. 

By  this  time  I  guess  I  am  feelin'  pretty  annoyed 
with  this  lousy  old  eagle  an*  I  tell  her  the  equivalent 
of  nuts  in  Spanish.  Just  at  this  minute  the  candle 
lantern  she  is  holdin'  decides  to  go  out.  She  says  a  nasty 
word  an'  just  chucks  it  at  me,  an'  sure  as  a  gun  it  hits 
me  on  the  side  of  the  head  an'  knocks  me  back  in 
the  corner. 

Me — I  am  beginnin'  to  get  good  an'  tired  of  bein' 
treated  this  way.  I  am  beginnin'  to  wonder  just  who 
my  pan  really  does  belong  to,  because  the  way  it  is 
feelin'  I  must  look  as  ugly  as  a  gargoyle,  an'  I  am 
beginnin'  to  realize  that  this  old  dame  don't  like  me  at 
all,  an'  that  if  she  is  just  playin'  around  with  me  I 
wonder  what  her  big  boy  son  is  goin'  to  do  to  me  when 
he  gets  around  to  it  sorta  serious. 

She  calls  me  a  dirty  so-an'-so  an'  she  scrams. 

I  wait  for  a  bit  an'  then  I  look  around  an*  start 
workin'.  The  floor  of  this  dump  is  earth  except  in  the 
corner  where  I  am  where  there  is  a  sorta  cement  patch. 
There  are  plenty  of  cracks  in  this  patch  an'  I  figure 
that  if  I  get  enough  time  maybe  I  can  get  rid  of  the 
rope. 

I  start  workin'  myself  around  until  I  have  got  the 
lantern  between  me  and  the  wall  an'  then  I  start 
pushin'  it  against  the  wall  with  my  legs  an'  when  I 
have  got  it  there  I  put  my  feet  against  it  an'  press  hard. 
It  busts  an'  the  broken  glass  falls  out. 

I  roll  over  on  my  stomach  an'  work  towards  the 
biggest  bit  of  glass.  You  gotta  realise  that  I  am  layin' 
on  my  hands  which  are  tied  across  my  chest  an'  I  am 
hurtin'  myself  plenty.  After  a  bit  I  get  to  where  the 

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DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

biggest  bit  of  glass  is  an'  I  start  lickin  this  with  my 
tongue,  lickin'  it  along  the  floor  to  where  there  is  a 
little  crack,  an'  I'm  tellin  you  that  the  taste  of  that 
floor  wasn't  like  no  raspberry  soda  neither.  Every  time 
I  get  this  bit  of  glass  moved  an  inch  or  so  I  have  to 
start  rollin'  again  so  as  to  get  in  position  for  another 
lick,  but  after  about  twenty  minutes  I  do  it.  I  lick  it 
so's  it  falls  into  the  crack  an'  the  crack  bein'  shallow  I 
have  fixed  it  so  that  a  spike  of  glass  is  stickin'  up  outa 
the  floor. 

I  get  my  legs  over  this  spike  an'  after  a  bit  I  push  the 
rope  down  over  it  an'  start  workin'  it  about  an'  after 
workin'  like  hell  I  manage  to  saw  through  the  rope  that 
is  tyin'  my  legs. 

I  stand  up  an'  move  around  quietly,  stretchin'  my 
legs.  I  start  workin'  my  hands  about  tryin'  to  move  the 
rope  that  is  tyin'  me  but  I  can't  do  it.  I  can  just  manage 
to  wiggle  two  or  three  fingers  of  my  right  hand  that  is 
not  tied  by  the  rope,  but  I  can't  do  anything  else,  so  I 
figure  I  have  gotta  think  something  else  up. 

I  think  about  this  an'  then  I  go  an'  I  stand  just  behind 
the  door,  so's  I'm  goin'  to  be  ready  for  whoever  opens 
it.  I  stand  there  leanin'  up  against  the  wall  an'  hopin' 
that  I  am  goin'  to  get  a  break  because,  believe  me,  an'  I 
know,  there  ain't  anybody  as  cruel  as  Mexicans  when 
it  comes  down  to  cases. 

After  about  half  an  hour  I  hear  somebody  comin' 
down  the  steps  outside,  an'  I  figure  that  by  the  sound 
of  it  it  is  a  guy  this  time. 

I  get  ready.  I  think  I  am  goin'  to  surprise  this  guy, 
I  am  countin'  on  the  fact  that  the  old  palooka  who 
threw  the  lantern  at  me  has  told  him  that  I  am  all  out 
for  none  in  the  corner. 

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MEXICAN       STUFF 

As  he  opens  the  door  I  take  a  step  back,  an'  as  he 
steps  into  the  room  I  kick  him  straight  in  the  guts  an' 
I  don't  kick  soft  neither  I'm  tellin'  you. 

This  guy  who  is  a  big  bum  with  whiskers  an'  side 
burns,  gives  a  funny  sorta  whine  an'  just  flops  down  on 
the  floor.  He  is  hurt  plenty  for  which  I  am  very  pleased. 

I  figure  that  I  have  gotta  work  quick.  I  close  the  door 
quietly  with  my  foot,  an'  then  I  get  to  work  on  this 
guy.  I  turn  him  over  an'  over  with  my  feet,  until  I  have 
got  him  away  from  the  door.  He  is  still  makin'  funny 
whinin'  noises  an'  he  is  crazy  with  pain.  I  reckon  I  have 
given  him  something  to  think  about. 

When  I  get  him  on  his  face  I  see  that  he  has  gotta 
knife  in  the  usual  place — stuck  in  his  pants  waistband 
at  the  back.  I  get  down  on  my  knees  an'  work  this  knife 
out  with  the  bits  of  fingers  that  I  have  got  stickin'  out 
of  the  rope  that  is  tyin'  me,  an'  when  I  have  got  it  in 
between  the  tops  of  my  fingers  I  get  up  an'  turn  this  guy 
over  on  his  back  again. 

I  get  up  an'  I  go  over  to  the  door.  I  stick  the  point 
of  the  knife  into  the  door  an'  I  press  my  chest  against 
the  handle.  This  way  I  have  got  the  knife  fixed  so  that 
I  can  rub  the  edge  of  the  blade  against  the  ropes  that 
are  around  my  chest.  In  another  few  minutes  I  cut  the 
rope.  The  guy  on  the  floor  is  not  so  good.  He  has 
rolled  over  into  the  corner.  I  reckon  I  needn't  worry 
about  this  guy.  He  is  hurt  plenty. 

I  go  over  to  him  an'  search  him  because  I  wanta  find 
the  Luger  that  they  have  taken  off  me,  but  he  ain't 
got  it.  I  leave  him,  open  the  door  an'  start  gumshoein' 
up  the  stone  steps.  These  steps  lead  up  to  the  ground 
floor  an'  at  the  top  I  find  another  door  that  opens  out 
into  what  looks  like  a  rough  sorta  kitchen.  There  ain't 

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DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

anybody  there,  but  I  am  very  glad  to  see  that  my  Luger 
is  lyin'  on  the  table  in  the  corner.  I  cannot  see  my 
shoulder  holster  which  they  have  taken  off  me,  so  I 
don't  worry  about  it.  I  just  stick  the  gun  in  my  right 
hand  coat  pocket,  a  business  which  I  am  goin'  to  be 
very  pleased  about  a  little  later  on. 

I  look  around  an'  I  listen,  but  I  can't  hear  a  thing. 
I  think  that  maybe  there  was  only  one  guy  in  this 
business — the  guy  downstairs — an'  that  he  was  the  pa- 
looka  who  knocked  me  out  an'  drove  me  here.  I  got 
a  hunch  that  the  old  dame  has  gone  off  to  tell  their 
pals  that  they  have  got  me  spread-eagled,  an'  I  think 
I  had  better  get  outa  this  quick  before  somebody  else 
starts  something. 

I  also  think  that  I  had  better  get  my  business  done 
around  here  in  Mexico  just  as  pronto  as  I  can,  otherwise 
some  of  these  guys  are  goin'  to  start  makin'  one  big 
mess  of  Mrs.  Caution's  little  boy  an'  I  certainly  am  not 
partial  to  that. 

I  scram  outa  the  house  an'  stuck  around  at  the  back 
behind  a  horse-shack  I  find  the  car,  an'  believe  me  I  am 
plenty  glad  to  find  it.  I  get  in  an'  start  off  back  again 
an'  get  on  the  road  to  get  to  Zoni.  I  am  feelin'  pretty 
lousy,  my  nose  is  hurtin'  considerable  where  the  old 
Mexican  dame  kicked  it,  an'  generally  I  could  do  with  a 
shot  of  rye. 

It  is  three  o'clock  when  I  get  to  Zoni.  It  is  the  usual 
sorta  one-horse-near-village  with  a  few  ranches  an' 
shacks  stuck  around.  I  pull  up  an'  sittin'  in  the  car  I 
clean  myself  up  as  well  as  I  can.  Then  I  start  lookin' 
around.  Away  over  on  my  left  is  a  white  painted  house 
in  front  of  some  trees.  It  is  a  two-story  place  shaped 
like  an  "L"  an'  it  looks  to  me  that  this  is  goin'  to  be 

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MEXICAN       STUFF 

the  doctor's  house,  the  place  where  Rudy  Benito  is 
hangin'  out. 

I  drive  over  an'  leave  the  car  in  front  of  this  place. 
Then  I  bang  on  the  door.  A  guy  opens  it.  He  is  a 
young  Mexican  an'  he  is  wearin'  a  white  coat.  He  also 
looks  as  if  he  washed  sometimes  which  is  a  good  sign. 
An'  he  also  looks  very  surprised  to  see  me.  I  guess  he 
is  right  because  I  must  have  looked  a  funny  sight. 

I  tell  him  that  I  want  to  see  Seiior  Madrales,  an*  that 
the  matter  is  very  urgent  even  if  it  is  in  the  middle  of 
the  night.  He  says  all  right  an'  tells  me  to  go  in.  I 
go  in.  I  am  in  a  big  hallway  with  doors  leading  off 
left  an'  right.  In  front  of  me  is  some  stairs  runnin'  up 
to  the  first  floor.  The  guy  in  the  white  coat  tells  me  to 
sit  down  an'  goes  off. 

Pretty  soon  he  comes  back  an'  with  him  is  another 
guy  who  says  that  he  is  Doctor  Madrales  an'  what  do 
I  want.  He  speaks  swell  Spanish.  He  is  a  tall  thin  guy; 
he  has  got  a  little  pointed  beard  an'  he  wears  eye- 
glasses. He  is  a  clever  lookin'  cuss  with  long  thin 
taperin'  fingers  which  he  rubs  together  while  he  is 
talkin'  to  me. 

I  tell  him  what  I  want.  I  tell  him  I  am  an  insurance 
investigator  an'  that  I  am  makin'  some  inquiries  into 
the  suicide  of  Granworth  Aymes.  I  tell  him  I  have  had 
a  conversation  with  Mrs.  Benito  an'  that  she  has  said 
that  I  oughta  have  a  few  words  with  her  husband  Rudy. 
I  say  what  about  it  an'  I  hope  that  this  Rudy  ain't  too  ill 
to  be  woke  up  as  I  have  not  got  a  lotta  time  to 
waste. 

He  shrugs  his  shoulders. 

"I  don't  think  it  matters  whether  my  patient  is 
awake  or  not,  Senor,"  he  says.  "As  Mrs.  Benito  has 

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DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

probably  told  you  he  is  a  very  sick  man.  I  am  afraid 
that  he  will  not  be  long  with  us." 

He  shrugs  his  shoulders  again. 

"It  is,  I  think,  merely  a  matter  of  a  month  or  so. 
However,  he  is  very  weak  and  I  suggest  that  you  talk 
to  him  as  quietly  as  possible.  If  you  will  wait  here  for 
a  moment  I  will  go  and  prepare  him.  I  think  I  had 
better  give  him  an  injection  before  you  see  him." 

He   goes  off. 

While  I  am  waiting  I  am  doing  some  quiet  thinkin'. 
I  am  thinkin'  about  this  business  about  bein'  smacked 
over  the  dome  while  I  was  comin'  out  here  an'  I  am 
thinkin'  that  it  is  damn  funny  that  somebody  should 
have  recognised  me  in  the  Casa  de  Oro  as  being  the  guy 
who  pinched  Caldesa  Martinguez.  I  have  got  a  coupla 
ideas  about  this  as  you  will  see  later  on. 

After  a  bit  this  Madrales  comes  to  the  top  of  the 
stairs.  He  says  I  am  to  go  up.  At  the  top  of  the  stairs 
is  another  passage  an'  we  go  into  a  room  on  the  left. 
One  side  of  the  room  is  practically  all  windows  which 
are  open,  an'  in  one  corner  there  is  a  screen.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  room  pushed  up  against  the  wall  is  a 
low  bed. 

I  look  at  the  guy  in  the  bed.  He  is  lyin'  there  lookin' 
straight  up  at  the  ceilin'.  He  has  got  a  thin  funny 
sorta  face  an'  there  is  a  funny  strained  sorta  look  about 
it. 

There  is  very  little  furniture  in  the  room.  Beside 
the  bed  there  is  a  low  table  with  a  polished  top  an'  there 
are  some  bottles  on  it  an'  a  lamp.  Madrales  goes  over 
an'  stands  by  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"Benito,"  he  says,  "this  is  Mr.  Caution.    He  wants 

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MEXICAN       STUFF 

to  ask  you  some  questions.  Just  keep  very  quiet  and 
don't  worry  about  anything." 

The  man  in  the  bed  don't  say  anythin'.  Madrales 
walks  over  to  the  other  side  of  the  room  an'  brings  a 
chair.  He  sticks  it  by  the  side  of  the  bed  for  me.  Then 
he  says: 

"Senor  Caution,  I  will  leave  you  now.  I  know  that 
you  will  treat  my  patient  with  as  much  consideration 
as  is  possible." 

He  goes  off  still  rubbin'  his  hands  together. 

I  go  an'  stand  over  by  the  bed.  The  sick  guy  turns 
his  eyes  so  that  they  are  lookin*  at  me  an'  his  lips 
break  into  a  little  sorta  smile. 

I  am  feelin'  plenty  sorry  for  this  guy.  It  looks  to  me 
like  he  has  had  a  pretty  low  deal  all  round.  I  talk 'to 
him  nice  an'  quiet. 

"Listen,  Rudy,"  I  tell  him.  "Take  it  easy.  I  am 
sorry  I  gotta  come  over  here  askin'  you  things,  but  that's 
just  the  way  it  goes.  I'm  goin'  to  make  it  as  short  as 
possible.  I  just  wanta  check  up  on  what  that  swell  wife 
of  yours  Paulette  has  been  tellin'  me  tonight,  an'  while 
I  think  of  it  I  gotta  tell  you  that  she  sent  you  her  love. 
I  reckon  maybe  she'll  be  along  in  the  mornin'  to  see  you. 
Well,  here's  the  way  it  goes. 

"It's  about  this  Granworth  Aymes  business.  Your 
wife  tells  me  that  Granworth  was  takin'  you  for  plenty 
since  you  was  doin'  business  with  him  as  a  stockbroker. 
She  says  that  you  found  it  out,  that  she  went  an'  saw 
Aymes  an'  gave  him  the  choice  of  cashin'  in  or  else  she 
was  goin'  to  the  cops. 

"She  says  that  Granworth  turned  over  two  hundred 
grand  in  registered  Federal  bonds  to  her  an'  that's  the 

165 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

money  you  got  now,  the  money  that  paid  for  you  to  be 
brought  down  here.  Is  that  O.K.  Rudy?" 

He  speaks  very  quiet.  His  voice  sounds  as  if  it  was 
comin'  from  a  long  way  away. 

"Sure,"  he  says  slowly,  "that's  how  it  was,  an'  I  am 
damned  glad  Aymes  bumped  himself  off.  If  I  hadn't 
been  sick  I  would  have  liked  to  have  shot  that  lousy 

guy." 

"O.K.  Rudy,"  I  tell  him,  "that's  that.  An'  there's 
just  one  little  thing  I  wanta  ask  you  an'  maybe  I'm 
sorry  I've  got  to  ask  you  it  because  I  don't  wanta  make 
things  tough  for  you  right  now.  It's  this  way.  Hen- 
rietta Aymes,  Granworth's  wife,  got  an  unsigned  letter 
from  some  guy.  This  letter  tells  her  that  Granworth  is 
playin'  around  with  this  guy's  wife." 

I  speak  to  him  nice  an'  soft. 

"Listen,  Rudy,"  I  say,  "did  you  send  her  that  letter? 
It  musta  been  you.  What  about  it?" 

There  is  a  long  pause.  Then  he  turns  his  eyes  over 
towards  me  again. 

"That's  right,"  he  says.  "I  sent  it.  I  just  had  to  do 
something." 

I  nod  my  head. 

"Look,"  I  say,  "I  reckon  we're  cleanin'  this  job  up 
pretty  swell.  I  don't  wanta  make  you  talk  too  much. 
You  tell  me  if  I'm  right  in  my  ideas.  The  way  I  look  at 
it  is  this.  Maybe  your  wife  Paulette  thought  she  was 
a  bit  stuck  on  Aymes.  Maybe  because  you  was  sick 
you  couldn't  give  her  the  sorta  attention  that  a  dame 
like  she  likes  to  have,  so  she  falls  for  Aymes.  O.K. 
Aymes  thinks  he's  on  a  damn  good  thing.  He  starts 
doin'  you  left  an'  right  for  your  dough  an'  maybe  the 
reason  that  you  don't  find  it  out  is  that  your  wife 

166 


MEXICAN       STUFF 

Paulette  is  lookin'  after  your  business,  an'  because  she 
an'  Aymes  are  gettin'  around  together  it's  easy  for  him 
to  pull  the  wool  over  her  eyes.  She  don't  see  he's  takin' 
you  for  your  dough  because  she  don't  wanta  see  it. 
Got  me? 

"And  then  the  works  bust.  All  of  a  sudden  at  the 
end  of  last  year  she  finds  you're  not  so  well.  She 
hears  that  you're  a  damn  sick  man  an'  that  there's  got 
to  be  dough  to  get  you  down  here  to  get  you  looked 
after.  Maybe  she  finds  out  that  you've  got  an  idea 
about  what's  goin'  on.  Maybe  you  even  tell  her  that 
you've  sent  that  unsigned  letter  to  Henrietta  Aymes. 

"She  sees  she's  been  pullin'  a  lousy  one  an*  she  tells 
you  that  she  is  goin'  back  to  get  that  dough  out  of 
Aymes  if  it's  the  last  thing  she  does.  Am  I  right?" 

He  turns  his  eyes  my  way  again. 

"You're  dead  right,  Caution,"  he  says.  "We  had  a 
big  scene.  I  told  her  what  I  thought  about  her.  I  said 
it  was  pretty  tough  for  me  being  sick  to  think  that  she 
was  running  around  with  a  guy  who  had  swindled 
me.  Well,  that  broke  her  up.  I  guess  she  was  sorry, 
and  you  know" — I  see  a  little  smile  come  around  his 
lips — "I  haven't  very  long  to  be  around,  and  I  don't 
want  to  feel  that  I'm  making  things  tough  for  anybody. 
She  told  me  she'd  put  the  job  right.  She  told  me  she'd 
get  the  money  from  Aymes  and  that  she  was  through 
with  him  once  and  for  all,  and  she  made  good.  She 
got  it." 

He  starts  coughin'.  I  give  him  a  drink  of  the  water 
that  is  by  the  side  of  the  bed.  He  smiles  at  me  to  say 
thank  you. 

"I'm  a  dying  man,  Caution,"  he  says,  "and  I  know 
you've  got  to  do  your  job,  but  there's  one  thing  you 

167 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

can  do  for  me."  His  voice  gets  weaker.  "Just  you  try 
and  keep  the  fact  that  Paulette  was  getting  around 
with  Aymes  out  of  this,"  he  says.  "I'd  like  you  to  do 
that  for  me.  I  wouldn't  like  people  to  know  that  she 
preferred  a  dirty  double-crosser  like  Aymes  to  me." 

He  smiles  at  me  again.    He  is  a  pitiful  sorta  guy. 

"O.K.  Rudy,"  I  say,  "that's  a  bet.  I'll  play  it  that 
way.  It  won't  hurt  anybody.  Well,  I'll  be  gettin'  along. 
So  long  an'  good  luck  to  you." 

I  turn  an'  I  start  walkin'  towards  the  door.  When 
I  am  halfway  I  see  somethin',  somethin'  that  is  just 
stickin'  out  behind  the  edge  of  the  screen  that  is  on 
the  other  side  of  the  room.  It  is  a  waste-paper  basket 
and  when  I  see  it  an'  what  is  in  it,  I  get  a  sorta  funny 
idea,  such  a  funny  idea  that  I  have  to  take  a  big  pull  at 
myself.  When  I  get  to  the  door  I  turn  around  and  I 
look  at  Rudy.  His  eyes  are  still  lookin'  straight  up 
at  the  ceilin'  an'  he  looks  half -dead  right  now. 

"So  long,  Rudy,"  I  say  again.  "Don't  you  worry 
about  Paulette.  I'll  fix  that  O.K." 

Downstairs  in  the  hall  I  meet  Madrales. 

"Listen,  Doctor,"  I  say,  "everythin'  has  been  swell, 
but  there  is  just  one  little  thing  I  am  goin'  to  ask  you 
to  do  for  me.  I  have  got  all  the  information  I  want 
from  Benito.  I  got  my  case  complete  but  I  have  got  to 
have  a  signed  statement  from  him,  because  he  is  the 
guy  who  was  swindled.  Can  you  lend  me  a  typewriter 
and  some  paper  an'  if  you'll  just  get  him  to  sign  it  I 
needn't  worry  him  no  more." 

"But  surely,  Serior  Caution,"  he  says,  "come  with 
me." 

He  takes  me  into  some  room  off  the  hall  which  is 
like  a  doctor's  office.  In  the  corner  on  a  table  is  a 

168 


MEXICAN       STUFF 


typewriter.  I  sit  down  at  this  machine  an'  I  type  out  a 
statement  incorporatin'  everything  that  Benito  has  said. 
When  I  have  finished  I  go  out  to  Madrales  an'  we  go 
upstairs.  It  is  a  tough  job  gettin'  this  guy  Benito  to 
sign  it.  The  doctor  has  to  hold  his  hand  because  it  is 
shakin'  so  much  that  he  can  hardly  hold  the  pen,  but 
he  does  it.  I  stick  the  statement  in  my  pocket  and  say 
so  long  to  these  guys  an'  I  scram. 

As  I  start  up  the  car  I  look  at  my  watch.  It  is  twenty 
minutes  past  four. 

I  have  got  one  helluva  hunch.  I  have  got  an  idea 
in  my  head  that  is  considerably  funny,  an*  I  am  goin' 
to  play  this  idea.  Even  if  I'm  wrong  I'm  still  goin'  to. 

When  I  have  got  well  away  from  the  Madrales 
dump  I  pull  up  the  car  an'  do  some  very  heavy  thinkin'. 
I  am  checkin'  up  on  the  idea  that  is  in  my  head.  I  have 
got  a  very  funny  hunch  an'  I  am  goin'  to  play  it  in  a 
very  funny  sorta  way. 

I  figure  that  I  am  goin'  to  take  a  look  around  at 
Paulette's  hacienda,  an'  I  figure  I  ain't  goin'  to  tell  her 
either.  I  am  just  goin'  to  do  a  little  quiet  house-bustin' 
just  to  see  if  I  can  get  my  claws  on  somethin'  that  I 
would  like  very  much  to  find. 

I  pull  the  gun  outa  my  pocket  an'  lay  it  right  by 
me.  I  reckon  that  if  anybody  else  tries  anything  on 
me  tonight  they  are  goin'  to  get  it  where  they  won't 
like  it. 

The  moon  has  come  out  again.  It  is  a  swell  night. 
Drivin'  along  back  on  the  Sonoyta  road  I  get  thinkin' 
about  dames  an'  what  they  do  when  they  are  in  a  jam. 

Did  I  tell  you  that  dames  get  ideas  to  do  things  that 
a  guy  would  never  even  think  of? 

You're  tellin'  me! 

169 


CHAPTER   XI 

PINCH   NO.   I 

I  DON'T  drive  up  to  the  hacienda.  When  I  get  to 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  it  I  pull  off  the  road  an' 
start  drivin'  round  over  the  scrub.  I  make  a  wide 
circle,  drivin'  the  car  slow  an'  keepin'  in  top  gear  so 
as  I  don't  make  too  much  noise,  an'  I  come  up  two- 
three  hundred  yards  behind  the  house. 

I  stick  the  car  behind  a  cactus  clump  an'  I  start 
workin'  towards  the  house  keepin'  well  under  cover. 
I  work  right  round  the  house  in  a  circle  but  I  can't 
see  anybody  or  hear  anythin'  at  all. 

Then  I  get  a  hunch.  Keepin'  well  in  the  scrub,  I 
start  workin'  along  the  side  of  the  road  that  leads 
from  the  hacienda  to  the  State  road  intersection,  an' 
I  keep  my  eyes  well  skinned.  After  about  five  minutes 
I  hear  a  horse  neigh.  I  work  up  towards  this  sound  an' 
I  find  a  black  horse  tied  up  to  a  Joshua  tree  about 
fifty  yards  off  the  road. 

It  is  a  good  horse  an'  on  it  there  is  a  Mexican  leather 
an'  wood  saddle  with  silver  trimmin's.  There  is  a  little 
silver  plate  just  behind  the  saddle  horn  an'  on  this 
plate  are  the  initials  L.  D. 

When  I  see  these  initials  I  know  that  my  hunch  is 
right  an'  that  Senor  Luis  Daredo  is  stickin'  around 
waitin'  for  me  somewhere.  Way  down  on  the  edge  of 
the  road  about  a  hundred  yards  away  there  is  a  patch 
of  scrub  an'  cactus,  an'  I  figure  I'll  find  him  down 

170 


PINCH      NO.       1 

there.  I  start  crawlin'  that  way,  an'  when  I  get  there  I 
see  I  am  right. 

Luis  has  picked  himself  a  good  place.  He  has  picked 
a  place  where  the  road  is  very  bad  an'  narrow  an'  full 
of  wagon  ruts.  He  is  sittin'  way  back  twenty  yards  off 
the  road  behind  a  big  cactus.  He  is  smokin'  an'  he  is 
nursin*  a  30.30  rifle  across  his  knees. 

I  come  up  behind  him  an'  I  bust  him  a  good  one  in 
the  ear.  He  goes  over  sideways.  I  pull  the  Luger  on  him 
an'  pick  up  his  rifle. 

He  sits  up.  He  is  smilin'  a  sorta  sickly  smile  an'  he 
is  lookin'  at  the  Luger.  I  reckon  he  thinks  that  I  am 
goin'  to  give  him  the  works. 

I  sit  down  on  a  rock  an'  look  at  him. 

"You  know,  Luis,"  I  tell  him,  "you  ain't  got  no 
sense,  an'  I'm  surprised  at  you  because  Mexicans  are 
about  the  only  people  in  the  world  who  can  keep 
themselves  one  jump  ahead  of  a  very  clever  dame  like 
Paulette  Benito.  An'  I'm  surprised  at  you  because  you 
didn't  tell  that  guy  that  smacked  me  over  the  head 
when  I  was  drivin'  to  Zoni  to  finish  me  off  pronto, 
because  I  guess  it  woulda  saved  a  lotta  trouble  for 
you  guys.  When  that  old  battle-axe  started  tellin'  me 
that  somebody  had  spotted  me  down  at  the  Casa  de  Oro 
as  the  guy  who  took  in  Caldesa  Martinguez,  an'  that  she 
was  his  mother,  I  knew  that  she  was  talkin'  a  lotta 
hooey  because  I  happen  to  know  that  Martinguez's 
mother  was  dead  years  before.  I  knew  that  you  was 
behind  the  job  all  right,  an'  it's  goin'  to  annoy  you 
plenty  before  I'm  through." 

He   gets  up  an'  he  lights  a  cigarette. 

"Senor  Caution,"  he  says,  "believe  me  you  got  what 

171 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

they  call  theese  wrong  ideas.  Sabe?  I  don't  know 
nothin'  about  some  peoples  who  do  sometheeng  to  you. 
I  am  jus'  sittin'  here  waitin'  for  a  gringo  who  work  for 
me,  see?  I  don'  know  what  the  hell  you  theenk  you 
are  talkin'.  Sabe?" 

"You  don't  say,"  I  tell  him.  "Just  fancy  that  now. 
O.K.  Well  you  just  listen  to  my  renderin'  of  this  little 
piece.  I  figure  that  you're  stringin'  along  with  Paulette 
Benito.  I  figure  that  Granworth  Aymes  wasn't  the 
only  guy  that  she  took  Rudy  Benito  for  a  ride  over. 
I  reckon  you're  number  two.  I  gotta  hunch  that  you 
two  are  just  waitin'  around  for  Rudy  to  die  off  an' 
then  you  an'  Paulette  was  goin'  to  get  hitched  up.  Well, 
you  ain't — savvy?" 

I  think  I  will  try  this  guy  out.  I  get  up  off  the  rock 
an'  I  put  my  gun  in  the  pocket,  an'  I  make  out  that  I 
am  goin'  to  get  myself  a  cigarette  outa  my  pocket,  an' 
he  tries  it.  He  takes  a  flyin'  kick  at  my  guts  an'  I  am 
waitin'  for  him.  I  do  a  quick  side  step,  smack  up  his 
foot  as  it  shoots  at  me  an'  bust  him  as  he  goes  down. 

We  mix  it,  an'  I  get  goin'  on  this  guy.  I  am  re- 
memberin'  that  old  sour-puss  of  a  Mexican  dame  kickin' 
me  in  the  face  an'  throwin'  the  lantern  at  me,  an' 
I  am  also  rememberin'  just  what  the  guy  who  came 
down  to  the  cellar  to  fix  me  woulda  done  if  he'd  got  the 
chance. 

I  bust  this  Luis  like  hell.  I  close  both  his  eyes  an' 
crack  some  teeth  out.  I  twist  his  nose  till  it  looks  like 
it  is  as  tender  as  mine  is,  an'  generally  I  give  him  more 
short-arm  stuff  than  I  have  ever  issued  any  guy  with 
for  a  helluva  long  time. 

Then  I  chuck  him  in  the  cactus.  He  is  all  washed  up 
an'  he  don't  even  care  that  a  cactus  spine  is  stickin'  in 

172 


PINCH      NO.       1 

his  leg.  He  just  ain't  got  any  interest  in  life  at  all.  I 
go  over  an'  take  a  look  at  him  an'  it  looks  to  me  like 
I  won't  have  any  more  trouble  with  him  for  quite  a 
little  while.  So  I  go  back  to  where  his  horse  is,  take  off 
the  bridle,  the  bellyband  an'  the  stirrup  leathers,  an* 
I  come  back  an'  I  make  a  nice  job  of  Luis.  I  tie  him  up 
so  neat  that  I  think  it  will  take  him  about  a  coupla 
years  to  get  outa  this  tie-up. 

I  take  a  knife  off  him  which  he  has  got  an*  his  rifle 
an'  I  chuck  'em  in  a  hole  an'  bury  'em.  I  take  his  pants 
off  him  an'  bury  'em  too.  I  do  this  because  I  reckon 
that  even  if  he  managed  to  get  outa  this  tie-up  he 
wouldn't  be  much  good  without  pants — it  would  sort 
of  affect  his  morale. 

Then  I  go  back  to  the  hacienda.  I  work  round  the 
back  an'  I  bust  in  through  a  window  that  is  easy.  I 
figure  that  Paulette  an'  the  Mexican  jane  will  be 
sleepin'  upstairs,  but  I  am  still  careful  not  to  make  any 
noise.  The  light  is  good  an'  I  can  see  plenty.  I  am  in  a 
sorta  kitchen  at  the  back  an'  I  get  outa  this  an'  gum- 
shoe along  the  passage  openin'  doors  an'  lookin'  in 
as  I  pass  rooms.  One  is  a  bedroom  that  ain't  bein'  used 
an'  one  is  a  sorta  store  room. 

After  a  bit  I  get  into  the  room  where  I  was  talkin' 
with  Paulette  before  I  went  to  Zoni,  an'  I  look  around. 
I  am  lookin'  for  somethin'  that  looks  like  a  safe  or  a 
place  where  papers  would  be  kept. 

After  a  bit  I  find  it.  It  is  a  wall  safe  behind  a  picture 
on  the  wall.  It  is  let  into  the  wall  an'  it  has  got  a 
combination  lock.  I  don't  worry  about  the  lock 
because  after  all  the  wall  is  only  wood.  So  I  get  back 
to  the  kitchen  an'  get  myself  a  can-opener  an'  a  strong 
carvin'  knife  that  I  find  there  an'  I  start  diggin' 

173 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

around  the  hinges  of  this  safe  until  I  have  burst  them 
off.  After  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  fix  it.  I  get  the 
safe  open. 

Inside  there  are  two-three  boxes  with  some  jewellery 
in  them  an'  a  lotta  papers.  I  leave  the  boxes  an'  I  take 
the  papers  over  to  the  veranda  an'  I  start  lookin' 
through  'em.  After  a  bit  I  find  what  I  want.  It  is  a 
share  transfer  authorizing  the  transfer  of  some  shares 
in  a  railway  company  from  Rudy  Benito  to  Granworth 
Aymes.  It  is  witnessed  by  Paulette. 

I  look  through  this  pretty  carefully,  then  I  stick  it 
in  my  pocket.  I  take  the  rest  of  the  papers  back  to  the 
safe  an'  I  put  'em  back  like  they  was  before  an'  fix  the 
safe  as  well  as  I  can,  an'  I  put  the  picture  back  in  front 
of  it. 

I  am  pretty  pleased  with  the  night's  work  one 
way  an'  another.  I  figure  I'll  get  this  job  cleaned 
up  pretty  soon.  I  look  out  over  the  mesa.  It  is 
near  time  that  dawn  was  breakin'  an'  there's  that 
peculiar  sorta  half-light  that  comes  between  night 
an'  mornin'. 

On  the  table  there  is  a  box  of  cigarettes.  I  take  one 
out  an'  light  it.  Then  I  go  over  to  the  sideboard.  I 
give  myself  a  drink.  I  have  just  sunk  half  the  liquor 
when  a  light  is  snapped  on.  I  turn  around  an'  standin' 
in  the  doorway  I  see  Paulette. 

She  is  wearin'  a  very  swell  blue  silk  dressin'  robe. 
Her  ash-blonde  hair  is  down  an'  is  tied  up  with  a 
ribbon.  She  stands  there  smilin'  a  funny  sorta  little 
smile,  an'  in  her  hand  she  has  got  a  .38  Colt. 

I  finish  the  drink. 

"Well,  well,  well,  Paulette,"  I  say.  "Just  fancy  seein' 
you  again  so  soon." 

174 


PINCH      NO.       1 

She  comes  into  the  room.  She  is  still  holdin'  the  gun 
on  me. 

"So  you're  back,  Mr.  'G'  man,"  she  says  very  quiet, 
still  smilin'.  "Why  don't  you  knock  on  the  door  when 
you  want  to  come  into  a  place?" 

I  take  a  drag  on  the  cigarette. 

"I'll  tell  you  why,  baby,"  I  tell  her.  "I  came  back 
here  because  I  had  a  big  idea  I  might  take  a  look  around 
an'  find  somethin'  I  wanted,  but  I  am  sorry  you  inter- 
rupted me  first.  But  there  is  just  one  little  thing  I'd 
like  to  know,  Paulette.  Why  don't  you  put  that  gun 
away?" 

She  laughs. 

"Maybe  you'd  like  me  to,  Lemmy,"  she  says.  "I 
expect  you  would.  You  know  I  think  you've  had 
enough  luck  for  tonight.  Maybe  it's  time  you  had  a 
little  bad  luck." 

"You're  tellin'  me,"  I  tell  her.  "Listen  Paulette," 
I  say,  "ain't  you  the  mug?  The  worst  thing  about  you 
dames  is  that  you  always  overplay  your  hand.  You're 
the  sorta  woman  who  would  come  in  on  a  poker  game 
with  a  pair  of  two's  just  hopin'  that  the  other  guys 
would  think  you'd  gotta  full  house,  but  you  made  a 
big  mistake  tonight.  You  shouldn't  have  'phoned 
through  to  Daredo. 

"When  some  guy  bumps  me  over  the  head  on  the 
road  to  Zoni,  an  'takes  me  off  to  some  place  to  give 
me  the  works,  I  was  wise  that  that  was  the  telephone 
call  you  put  through  to  Daredo,  an'  why?  Well,  there 
can  only  be  one  reason  an'  that  reason  was  that  you 
thought  it  would  be  pretty  dangerous  for  yourself  if 
I  got  as  far  as  Zoni  an'  saw  Rudy.  So  you  fixed  with 
Luis  Daredo  to  get  me  before  I  got  there. 

175 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

"By  the  time  I  have  got  to  Zoni  an'  seen  Rudy, 
Luis's  pals  have  wised  him  up  that  I  have  got  away,  so 
knowin'  that  I'll  take  this  road  back  to  get  on  to  the 
main  State  road,  he  sits  behind  a  clump  of  cactus  way 
down  from  the  house  an'  waits  for  me  with  a  rifle. 

"Well,  it  just  didn't  work.  I  have  bust  Luis  good  an' 
plenty,  an'  he's  pretty  sick  right  now." 

She  is  still  smilin'. 

"That  doesn't  really  matter,  does  it,  Lemmy?"  she 
says.  "I'm  still  on  top  of  the  game." 

"You're  tellin'  me,"  I  tell  her.  "But  what's  the  good 
of  you  bein'  on  top  of  the  game.  Where  do^we  go  from 
here?  Listen,  Paulette,"  I  say,  "why  don't  you  get 
yourself  some  sense?  What  do  you  think  you're  goin' 
to  do  with  that  gun?  Do  you  think  you're  goin'  to 
shoot  me?  How  come?  Be  your  age." 

She  laughs  out  loud  this  time,  an'  she  looks  as  sweet 
as  pie.  I'll  tell  you  this  Paulette  has  got  one  helluva 
nerve. 

"Aren't  you  being  a  sap,  Lemmy?"  she  says.  "And 
do  you  think  you'll  be  the  first  dick  who's  been  killed 
in  Mexico  and  not  missed.  I'm  going  to  kill  you,  Lemmy, 
not  because  I  particularly  want  to,  because  in  several 
ways  I  find  you  rather  attractive,  but  I  think  you're 
a  little  bit  too  consistent  for  my  way  of  thinking. 
You're  obstinate  you  know.  You're  the  sort  of  man 
who  would  go  on  working  and  working,  following  his 
nose  so  to  speak,  until  he  might  do  all  sorts  of  things 
that  might  even  be  inconvenient  for  me.  I'm  choosing 
the  lesser  of  the  two  evils." 

I  flop  down  in  a  chair.  She  is  standin'  in  the  middle 
of  the  room  right  under  the  electric  light.  I  look  at 
the  gun  in  her  hand.  It  is  as  steady  as  a  rock.  I  reckon 

176 


PINCH      NO.       1 

this  dame  will  kill  me  without  even  battin'  an  eyelid. 

I  don't  feel  so  good.  I  am  burned  up  that  just  when 
I  am  gettin'  ideas  about  this  job  that  I  should  be  ironed 
out  by  some  dame.  Me — I  never  thought  that  I  would 
be  bumped  by  a  dame. 

"You  know,  Paulette,"  I  tell  her.  "I  think  you're 
bein'  silly.  What  you  got  to  bump  me  off  for?  What 
harm  can  I  do  you?  I  don't  get  this  sorta  business  at 
all." 

She  just  smiles. 

"Well,"  she  says,  "here  it  comes,  Lemmy.  I'm  going 
to  give  it  to  you.  And  I'll  try  and  do  it  so  that  it 
won't  hurt  too  much.  How  will  you  have  it — sitting 
down  or  standing  up?" 

"Justa  minute,  Paulette,"  I  say.  "There  is  just  a 
little  thing  I  wanta  say  to  you  before  you  start  the 
heat." 

"All  right,  Lemmy,"  she  says.  "I'm  listening.  Go 
right  ahead,  but  don't  be  too  long." 

I  start  thinkin'.  I  think  as  quick  as  hell.  You  gotta 
remember  that  earlier  in  the  evenin'  I  told  you  that 
Paulette  came  an'  put  her  hands  on  my  shoulders  when 
she  was  talkin'  to  me.  When  she  took  her  hands  away 
she  sorta  let  'em  drop  down  the  sides  of  my  coat  an' 
her  right  hand  rested  for  a  minute  on  my  Luger  which 
was  in  its  shoulder  holster  under  my  left  arm.  O.K. 
Well,  maybe  she  will  think  that  the  gun  is  still  there. 
She  won't  know  that  the  Mexicans  pinched  the  holster 
off  me  an'  that  I  have  got  the  gun  in  my  right  hand 
coat  pocket. 

I  get  up.    I  let  my  hands  hang  loose  by  my  sides. 

"Well,  well,  well,  Paulette,"  I  say.  "If  I've  gotta 
have  it  I  reckon  I'll  have  it  standin'  up.  Maybe  you're 

177 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

not  very  keen  on  doin'  anythin'  for  me,  but  there  are 
two  favors  I  would  like  to  ask  you.  One  is  that  I 
would  like  to  have  another  shot  of  that  bourbon  of 
yours  before  I  hand  in  my  checks  an'  the  other  thing 
is  that  I  would  like  you  some  time  or  other  to  send  my 
Federal  badge  to  a  dame  in  Oklahoma.  I'll  give  you 
the  address.  You  don't  have  to  send  it  now.  Send  it  in 
a  year's  time  if  you  like,  but  I  sorta  feel  that  I'd  like 
her  to  have  it." 

She  laughs  again. 

"Just  fancy  now,"  she  says,  "the  tough  'G'  man 
getting  sentimental  about  a  woman." 

I  shrug  my  shoulders. 

"That's  the  way  it  is,"  I  say. 

I  turn  round  an'  I  walk  over  to  the  sideboard.  I  pour 
myself  out  a  shot  of  bourbon,  an'  I  drink  it.  I  put  the 
glass  back  on  the  sideboard,  an'  I  turn  around. 

"O.K.  Paulette,"  I  say,  "here's  the  badge.  I'll  leave 
it  on  this  table." 

I  put  my  hand  sorta  quite  natural  in  my  right-hand 
coat  pocket,  an'  I  fire  through  my  coat.  I  fire  at  the 
electric  lamp  an'  I  get  it.  Right  at  the  same  moment 
I  drop  on  my  knees  an'  I  hear  Paulette  fire  three  times.  I 
take  a  leap  forward  like  I  was  a  runner  gettin'  off  the 
mark,  an'  hit  her  clean  in  the  belly  with  my  head.  She 
goes  over  backwards.  I  grab  her  arm  an'  twist  the  gun 
out  of  it. 

"O.K.  baby,"  I  say.  "Now  let's  take  it  easy." 

"Damn  you,  Lemmy,"  she  says.  "What  a  fool  I  was 
to  even  give  you  a  chance." 

"You're  tellin'  me,"  I  say.  "Why  you  didn't  plug  me 
while  I  was  drinkin'  that  bourbon  I  don't  know.  Still 

178 


PINCH      NO.       1 

I  never  did  know  a  dame  who  was  really  swell  with  a 
gun." 

She  don't  say  nothin'.  She  is  just  breathin'  hard. 
I  throw  her  gun  over  the  veranda  an'  still  holdin'  her 
by  the  arm  I  walk  over  to  the  electric  standard  lamp 
that  is  in  the  other  corner  of  the  room  an'  I  switch 
it  on.  Then  I  take  a  look  at  her.  She  is  still  smilin' 
but  it  is  a  hard  sorta  smile. 

"Well,  here's  where  we  go,  lady,"  I  say.  "I  guess 
you  played  your  hand  as  well  as  you  could  an'  it  didn't 
quite  come  off.  You  know,"  I  tell  her,  "if  you'd  had 
any  sense  you'da  shot  me  while  I  was  drinkin'  that 
bourbon.  Then  I'da  been  nice  an'  dead  by  now.  Then 
you  coulda  got  your  friend  Luis  to  chuck  me  in  some 
hole  around  here  an'  nobody  would  have  ever  known 
that  that  big  bad  wolf  Lemmy  Caution  had  come 
bustin'  around  annoyin'  poor  little  Paulette.  Tough 
luck,  baby!" 

"That's  as  maybe,"  she  says — her  voice  is  sorta 
tense — "but  I'll  be  glad  to  know  what  you're  charging 
me  with.  You  say  you're  a  Federal  Agent,  but  I've 
no  proof  of  that.  I've  never  even  seen  your  badge.  I 
find  you  here  in  my  house  in  the  middle  of  the  night. 
I'm  entitled  to  take  a  shot  at  you.  This  is  Mexico." 

"That's  O.K.,"  I  say.  "An'  maybe  you  could  get 
away  with  a  story  like  that.  But  I  ain't  worryin'  about 
them  shots  you  had  at  me.  I  woulda  worried  if  they'd 
got  me  an'  they  didn't.  I  ain't  pinchin'  you  for  them 
shots.  I'm  pinchin'  you  for  something  else." 

She  flops  down  on  a  chair  an'  she  starts  cryin'.  The 
way  she  is  sittin'  her  robe  has  fallen  back  a  bit  an'  I 
can  see  a  piece  of  leg.  I  get  to  thinkin'  that  this  Paulette 

179 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

sure  has  got  legs  that  are  easy  to  look  at.  I  don't  say 
nothin'.  I  just  stick  around  waitin'  for  her  to  try  an' 
pull  somethin'  else. 

After  a  bit  she  stops  cryin'  an'  looks  up  at  me.  She 
looks  sweller  than  ever.  She  sorta  smiles  through  the 
two  big  teardrops  that  are  hangin'  in  her  eyes.  I'm 
tellin'  you  that  this  Paulette  is  one  helluva  actress,  an' 
I  would  back  her,  under  ordinary  luck,  to  kid  a 
Bowery  tough  that  he  was  travellin'  in  ladies'  powder 
puffs  an'  likin'  it. 

"Get  me  a  drink,  Lemmy,"  she  says. 

I  go  over  an'  get  her  one.  I  give  her  a  strong  one.  I 
reckon  she  needs  it,  an'  she  will  need  it  more  before  I 
am  through  with  her.  I  take  it  back  to  her  an'  watch 
her  while  she  is  drinkin'  it. 

She  puts  the  glass  down. 

"I  know  I've  been  a  fool,  Lemmy,"  she  says,  sorta 
soft,  with  her  eyes  lookin'  at  the  floor,  "but  you  must 
try  and  understand.  I  told  you  how  I  felt  about  Rudy, 
and  I  had  an  idea  that  you  were  going  over  there  to 
put  him  through  the  mill.  I  knew  that  once  there 
you  would  drag  up  all  that  old  stuff  and  remind  him 
of  something  that  I  wanted  him  not  to  remember  just 
now — that  I'd  made  a  fool  of  myself  over  Granworth 
Aymes.  I  didn't  want  him  to  be  bothered  just  at  the 
time  when  he  is  dying  and  trying  to  think  all  the  best 
things  of  me  that  he  can.  So  I  telephoned  Daredo.  I 
told  him  to  get  somebody  to  wait  for  you  and  hold  you 
somewhere  so  that  you  couldn't  get  at  Rudy.  But  I 
told  him  that  I  didn't  want  you  hurt." 

Some  tears  started  runnin'  down  her  face  again. 

"You  bet  I  didn't  want  you  hurt,"  she  goes  on.  "I 
don't  expect  you  to  believe  me,  Lemmy,  but  I'm  telling 

180 


PINCH      NO.       1 

you  that,  even  though  I've  only  known  you  for  a  few 
hours,  I  felt  that  you  are  the  sort  of  man  who  might 
really  mean  something  in  my  life." 

She  looks  up  an'  her  eyes  are  swimmin'. 

"Don't  you  see,  Lemmy,"  she  says.  "Don't  you  see 
...  I  love  you!" 

I  look  at  this  dame  with  my  mouth  floppin'  open.  I 
reckon  that  when  they  was  issuin'  out  nerve  they 
issued  this  kiddo  with  enough  to  run  the  Marines  on. 
Here  is  a  dame  who  has  just  been  on  the  point  of  blastin' 
me  down  with  a  .38  gun  an'  she  is  now  tellin'  me  that 
she  loves  me! 

An'  the  joke  is  that  the  dame  has  got  somethin'.  She 
has  got  that  sorta  thing  that  makes  you  wanta  believe 
her  even  though  you  know  all  the  time  that  she  is  a 
first-class  four-flushin'  double-dealin'  twicin'  sister  of 
Satan  who  would  take  a  sleepin'  man  for  the  gold 
stoppin'  in  his  right  hand  eye  tooth. 

I  look  at  her  an'  wonder.  Maybe  you  heard  about 
that  classy  dame  Cleopatra  who  slipped  a  bundle  into 
Marc  Antony  when  the  guy  wasn't  lookin'.  Maybe 
you  heard  of  Madame  Pompadour  who  had  the  King  of 
France  so  heel-tied  that  he  thought  backwards  just  so's 
he  wouldn't  ever  come  up  for  air  an'  know  he  was  nuts. 

Well,  I'm  tellin'  you  that  this  Paulette  was  born  outa 
her  time.  She  oughta  been  born  in  the  Middle  Ages 
just  so's  she  coulda  pulled  a  fast  one  on  Richard  Coeur 
de  Lion  an'  kidded  him  that  he  was  a  Roman  gladiator 
with  knock-knees.  This  dame  is  so  good  that  she  almost 
believes  herself. 

"Listen,  honeybunch,"  I  tell  her.  "So  far  as  I  am 
concerned  I  reckon  it  is  a  great  pity  that  you  didn't 
find  all  this  stuff  about  lovin'  me  out  before  you  started 

181 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

that  act  with  the  gun.  An'  I  can  catch  on  that  you 
certainly  didn't  want  me  around  at  Zoni  askin'  Rudy 
questions  an'  findin'  out  one  or  two  things  about  you 
— such  as  the  fact  that  you  was  stringin'  around  with 
Granworth  Aymes;  that  he  was  your  sugar  daddy  an' 
that  you  was  the  guy  who  helped  pull  the  wool  over 
the  eyes  of  that  poor  sap  of  a  husband  of  yours  while 
Granworth  was  doin'  the  big  plunderin'  act. 

"An'  do  you  think  that  I  don't  know  why  you  are 
pullin'  this  lovin'  wife  act  now.  I  figure  it  is  because 
you  wanted  to  make  certain  that  you  was  goin*  to 
have  the  dough  after  Rudy's  dead.  It  wouldn'ta  been 
so  hot  for  you  if  he'd  left  it  to  somebody  else  because 
he  didn't  like  your  bein'  Gran  worth's  lovin'  baby,  huh? 
It  woulda  been  tough  if  after  kiddin'  Granworth  into 
handin'  back  the  dough  he'd  pinched  from  Rudy,  an' 
then  dyin'  an'  gettin'  himself  outa  the  way,  Rudy  told 
you  to  take  a  bite  of  air  an'  handed  over  the  money  to 
some  home  for  Mangy  Rattlesnakes.  That  woulda  been 
too  much  for  you,  wouldn't  it? 

"So  you  start  doin'  a  big  act  with  Rudy.  You  make 
out  that  you  are  the  naughty  little  wife  who  only 
wants  her  sick  husband  to  forgive  her  so's  she  can 
start  all  over,  an'  the  poor  mutt  does  it,  an'  even  while 
he  is  dyin'  you  are  kickin'  around  with  that  lousy 
Luis  Daredo." 

She  don't  say  nothin'.  I  just  watch  her  like  a  snake 
just  to  see  how  she  is  takin'  all  this  hooey  that  I  am 
handin'  out  to  her.  She  sits  there  lookin'  at  me  with 
the  tears  runnin'  down  her  face. 

"O.K.  Paulette,"  I  tell  her.  "You  an'  me  is  goin' 
upstairs  an'  you  are  goin'  to  get  yourself  dressed  an' 
then  we  are  goin'  places,  an'  don't  try  anything  on 

182 


PINCH      NO.       1 

me  willya,  because  I  would  just  hate  to  get  really  tough 
with  you." 

She  sticks  her  chin  up. 

"Supposing  I  refuse  to  go,"  she  says.  "I'm  an  Ameri- 
can citizen  and  I've  rights.  Where's  your  warrant? 
Where  are  you  going  to  take  me?  I  want  a  lawyer." 

"Baby,"  I  tell  her.  "Don't  get  me  annoyed.  I  ain't 
got  any  warrant  but  I  have  got  a  very  big  hand  an'  if 
I  have  any  more  hooey  outa  you  I  am  goin'  to  put  you 
across  my  knees  an'  I  am  goin'  to  knock  sparks  outa 
that  portion  of  your  chassis  that  was  made  for  slidin' 
on.  As  for  wantin'  a  lawyer,  as  far  as  I  care  you  can  have 
six  hundred  lawyers  all  workin'  overtime  with  wet 
towels  round  their  domes,  but  even  that  mob  couldn't 
get  you  outa  the  jam  you're  in.  So  take  it  easy  an'  be  a 
good  girl  otherwise  I'm  goin'  to  smack  you  plenty." 

I  take  her  upstairs  an'  I  stick  around  while  she  gets 
her  things  on.  After  this  I  look  around  for  the  Mexican 
jane  but  she  ain't  there,  so  it  looks  as  if  she  has 
scrammed  some  place. 

Paulette  ain't  sayin'  a  thing.  She  just  looks  like  hell. 
When  she  is  ready  I  take  her  outa  the  house  an'  back  to 
where  the  car  is.  In  the  car  I  got  a  coupla  pair  of 
police  bracelets  an'  I  shackle  up  Paulette  an'  stick  her 
in  the  back  so's  she  can't  move. 

I  get  in  the  car  an'  start  off.  I  figure  I  have  gotta 
move  plenty  quick  otherwise  some  of  Daredo's  pals  may 
get  around  an'  find  him  an'  he  might  decide  to  start 
something  else.  I  would  like  to  take  this  Luis  Daredo 
along  too,  but  you  gotta  realize  that  this  guy  is  a 
Mexican  an'  I  do  not  want  to  start  any  complications, 
so  I  figure  I  will  take  a  chance  about  him  not  startin' 
anything  when  I  have  gone. 

183 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

I  tread  on  it  an5  get  ahead  as  fast  as  I  can.  I  pull  on 
to  the  main  road  leadin'  to  the  State  intersection  an' 
pretty  soon  we  pass  the  spot  where  Luis  is  lyin'  in  the 
cactus  without  any  pants.  I  take  a  peek  behind  an'  look 
at  Paulette.  She  sees  him  too,  an'  in  spite  of  everythin' 
she  has  to  smile.  That  guy  certainly  did  look  a  sight. 

After  a  bit  the  road  gets  better  an'  we  whiz,  an' 
pretty  soon  we  pull  on  to  the  State  road  to  Yuma. 

The  day  has  started  an'  the  sun  is  comin'  up.  I  start 
singin'  Cactus  Lizzie  which,  as  I  have  told  you  before, 
is  a  song  that  I  am  very  partial  to. 

I  figure  that  I  have  got  to  do  a  hundred  an'  fifty 
miles  to  Yuma,  an'  I  wanta  do  it  quick. 

There  are  two-three  things  that  I  have  gotta  fix  down 
there  pretty  pronto,  because  if  the  ideas  that  I  have  got 
in  my  head  are  right  there  is  plenty  goin'  to  start 
happenin'. 

I  light  myself  a  cigarette,  an*  I  throw  a  look  over 
my  shoulder  at  Paulette.  She  is  lyin'  back  in  the  seat 
with  her  hands,  with  the  steel  bracelets  on  'em,  in  her 
lap. 

"One  for  me,  Lemmy,"  she  says,  smilin'. 

I  light  a  cigarette  an'  lean  back  an'  put  it  in  her 
mouth.  She  nods  her  head.  I  turn  around  again. 

"You  know,  Lemmy,"  she  says  after  a  bit.  "Aren't 
you  taking  a  bit  of  a  chance?  I  imagine  you  are  holding 
me  as  a  material  witness,  but  I  have  yet  to  know  the 
authority  on  which  a  Federal  Agent  can  handcuff  and 
take  an  American  woman  out  of  Mexican  territory  just 
because  he  thinks  that  she  may  have  important  evidence. 
Because  that's  all  you've  got  on  me.  I'm  just  a  material 
witness.  You  can't  bring  charges  against  me  for 

184 


PINCH      NO.      1 

attempting  to  shoot  you,  because  I'm  entitled  to  shoot 
any  man  I  find  in  my  house  at  night." 

She  takes  a  puff  at  her  cigarette. 

"I  think  that  Fm  going  to  make  things  very  dif- 
ficult for  you,  Lemmy,"  she  says. 

I  look  at  her  over  my  shoulder. 

"Look,  Paulette,"  I  say.  "You  take  a  pull  at  yourself 
an'  don't  talk  hooey.  I  don't  give  a  damn  about  your 
takin'  a  shot  at  me.  An'  I  ain't  takin'  you  back  as  a 
material  witness  or  anything  else  like  that,  so  don't 
start  tellin'  yourself  what  you're  goin'  to  do  to  me, 
because  you're  takin'  yourself  for  a  ride,  honeybunch, 
an'  I'd  hate  to  see  you  disappointed." 

"I  see,"  she  says.  "Then  if  I'm  not  a  material  witness, 
an'  you're  forgetting  about  the  shooting,  may  I  be  so 
curious  as  to  ask  just  what  you  are  taking  me  some- 
where for?" 

"O.K.  honey,"  I  tell  her.  "Here  it  is.  I'm  takin'  you 
back  to  Palm  Springs  just  because  I  wanta  take  you 
there,  an'  when  I  get  you  there  I'm  chargin'  you  with 
first-degree  murder." 

I  give  her  another  cigarette  over  my  shoulder. 

"I'm  chargin'  you  with  the  murder  of  Granworth 
Aymes  on  the  night  of  the  12th  January,"  I  tell  her, 
"an'  how  do  you  like  that?" 

t- 

••        • 

JN.N 


185 


CHAPTER   XII 

HOOEY    FOR    TWO 

IT  is  eleven  o'clock  at  night  when  I  pull  the  car  up 
outside  Metts'  house  in  Palm  Springs. 

Paulette  seemsta  have  settled  down  a  bit.  She  has  also 
got  the  idea  that  she  is  goin'  to  make  a  big  sap  outa  me 
before  she  is  through. 

I  stuck  around  at  Yuma  for  a  coupla  hours  because 
I  wanted  to  telephone  through  to  Metts  an'  tell  him 
one  or  two  things  so  that  he  wouldn't  be  too  surprised 
when  I  showed  up  an'  I  also  had  a  spot  of  business  to 
do  over  the  phone  with  the  Mexican  authorities  at 
Mexicali  an'  another  spot  with  the  New  York  Office. 
I  stuck  around  there  for  a  bit  so's  Paulette  could  get 
her  hair  done,  an'  also  so  that  we  shouldn't  arrive  at 
Metts'  place  at  Palm  Springs  before  night  because  I 
have  got  an  idea  that  I  don't  want  anybody  to  see 
Paulette.  I  am  goin'  to  keep  her  nice  an'  secret  for  a 
bit. 

I  hand  her  over  to  Metts  in  his  sittin'-room. 

"This  is  Paulette  Benito,"  I  tell  him,  "an'  I  am  chargin' 
her  with  first-degree  murder  of  Granworth  Aymes.  I'd 
be  glad  if  you'd  book  her  on  that  an'  hold  her  pendin' 
extradition  to  the  State  of  New  York.  I  think  that 
maybe  two  or  three  days  in  the  lock-up  here  would  do 
this  dame  a  quite  lotta  good.  It  might  sorta  get  her 
mind  nice  an'  peaceful  so's  she  feels  like  talkin'." 

"That's  O.K.  by  me,"  says  Metts. 

He  rings  the  bell  an*  tells  a  cop  to  get  through  to 
186 


HOOEY      FOR      TWO 

headquarters  an'  have  a  sergeant  take  Paulette  along 
an'  book  her.  He  says  that  she  is  to  be  held  incom- 
municado pendin'  further  instructions. 

Paulette  just  stands  there.  She  is  lookin'  fine.  She 
has  got  her  hair  done  very  nice  like  I  told  you  at  Yuma, 
an'  she  has  got  a  swell  suit  on  an'  ruffles.  She  looks  like 
she  would  have  to  take  two  bites  to  eat  a  lump  of  butter. 

She  smiles  at  me  an'  Metts. 

"Very  well,"  she  says.  "You  have  it  your  own  way 
now,  Lemmy,  but  believe  me  I'm  going  to  make  the 
Federal  Service  too  hot  to  hold  you  before  I'm  through 
with  you.  And  I  insist  on  a  lawyer.  I'm  entitled  to 
one  and  I'm  going  to  have  one.  Any  objections,  or  are 
you  going  to  twist  the  legal  Constitution  of  the  United 
States  to  suit  yourself?" 

"That's  O.K.  by  me,  Paulette,"  I  tell  her.  "Mr.  Metts 
here  will  get  a  good  lawyer  sent  around  to  you  in  the 
morning.  An'  then  what?  I  reckon  you  an'  him  can 
have  a  great  time  together  while  you  tell  him  how  you 
didn't  kill  Granworth.  But  you  ain't  goin'  to  be  sprung. 
You  ain't  goin'  to  get  no  bail  or  get  outside  the  lock-up 
until  I  say  go,  so  you  can  bite  on  that  an'  like  it." 

She  smiles  at  me.  She  shows  her  little  white  teeth  an* 
I  don't  reckon  I  have  ever  seen  such  pretty  teeth — 
except  maybe  Henrietta's. 

The  cop  comes  in  to  take  her. 

"Au  revoir,  Lemmy,"  she  says.  "What  a  cheap  flat- 
foot  you  are?  You  didn't  really  think  that  I'd  fallen 
for  you,  did  you?" 

"Me — I  never  think  at  all  where  dames  are  con- 
cerned," I  crack  back  at  her.  "I  just  let  them  do  the 
thinkin'.  Well,  so  long,  Paulette.  Don't  do  anything 
that  you  wouldn't  like  your  mother  to  know  about." 

187 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

The  cop  takes  her  away. 

I  tell  Metts  just  as  much  of  the  works  as  I  want  him 
to  know,  an*  I  tell  him  just  how  I  am  goin'  to  play  this 
thing  from  now  on.  Metts  is  a  good  guy,  an'  he  has 
got  brains,  an'  he  sees  that  what  I  am  doin'  is  the  only 
way  to  play  this  job.  So  he  cuts  in  an'  says  I  can  rely  on 
him  the  whole  damn  way. 

After  which  he  gives  me  a  wire  that  has  come  through 
from  the  "G"  Office  in  New  York. 

An'  when  I  read  it  do  I  get  a  kick  or  do  I? 

I  told  you  that  I  sent  a  wire  to  the  New  York  "G" 
Office  before  I  went  inta  Mexico.  In  this  wire  I  sent 
'em  a  list  of  the  clothes  that  Henrietta  was  wearin'  on 
the  night  of  the  12th  January  when  she  went  inta 
New  York  to  see  Granworth,  an'  I  asked  the  New  York 
Office  to  check  up  with  the  maid  Marie  Dubuinet  and 
the  night  watchman  an'  ask  'em  if  they  could  identify 
these  clothes  as  bein'  Henrietta's.  Well,  here  is  the 
reply: 

"Reference  your  wire.  The  maid  Marie  Dubuinet  now 
employed  by  Mrs.  John  Vlaford,  New  York,  definitely 
identified  clothes  as  being  part  of  outfit  packed  by  her 
for  Mrs.  Henrietta  Aymes  when  proceeding  to  Hart- 
ford, Connecticut  stop.  James  Fargal  night  watchman 
at  Cotton's  Wharf  identified  hat  and  fur  coat  as  being 
those  worn  by  the  woman  who  got  out  of  the  car  which 
afterwards  drove  over  wharf  edge  with  Granworth 
Aymes  in  driving  seat  stop.  Both  these  identifications 
absolutely  positive" 

So  there  you  are,  an*  I  reckon  that  I  have  now  got 
Henrietta  placed  in  this  job  all  right,  an'  I  guess  that 
when  I  have  told  this  sweet  dame  just  what  I  am  goin' 

188 


HOOEY      FOR      TWO 

to  tell  her  within  the  next  few  hours  then  maybe  she 
is  goin'  to  get  such  a  surprise  that  she  will  not  be  quite 
certain  as  to  whether  she  is  standin'  on  her  arm  or  her 
elbow. 

It  is  now  twelve  o'clock  an'  Metts  an1  I  go  into  a 
huddle  an'  we  work  out  just  what  we're  goin'  to  do 
now.  Metts  asks  me  if  I  was  serious  when  I  said  that 
he  could  get  a  lawyer  for  Paulette  next  mornin',  an' 
I  say  I  do  not  mind  if  she  has  twenty-five  lawyers 
because  I  figure  that  when  I'm  through  with  her  she 
won't  even  need  one  of  'em. 

I  then  have  a  drink  with  him  after  which  I  go  down 
an'  get  into  the  car  an'  start  off  for  the  Hacienda 
Altmira.  It  is  a  swell  night  an'  while  I  am  drivin'  along 
I  get  to  thinkin'  what  a  lot  has  happened  since  the  first 
time  I  was  on  this  road.  Life's  a  funny  thing  whichever 
way  you  look  at  it  or  even  if  you  don't  look  at  it. 

Pretty  soon  at  the  end  of  the  main  street  I  come  to 
the  Hot  Dog  dump.  I  get  out,  go  inside  an'  get  myself  a 
cup  of  coffee.  The  two  swell  wise-crackin'  dames  in 
their  white  coats  are  still  issuin'  out  the  eats  an'  the 
old  dame  they  call  "Hot  Dog  Annie,"  just  as  high  as  she 
was  on  the  first  night  I  saw  her,  is  sittin'  down  at  a 
table  eatin'  a  hot  dog  with  the  tears  runnin'  down  her 
face. 

The  red-headed  dame  looks  at  me  with  glowin'  eyes. 

"Gee,  Mr.  Caution,"  she  says,  "we  was  tickled  silly 
when  we  heard  you  was  a  'G'  man.  We  remembered 
the  first  night  you  came  in  here  an'  started  pullin'  a 
lotta  stuff  on  us  that  you  came  from  Magdalena  in 
Mexico.  Gee,  it  must  be  a  swell  job  bein'  a  'G'  man." 

I  drink  my  coffee. 

"It  ain't  so  bad,  honey,"  I  say,  "an*  then  again  it 
189 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

ain't  so  good.  But  you  be  careful  or  else  I  might  get 
after  you." 

I  give  her  a  naughty  look. 

"Yeah?"  she  says,  "I  reckon  I  wouldn't  mind.  I 
guess  it  wouldn't  be  so  bad  bein'  pinched  by  a  guy  like 
you." 

"That's  as  may  be,  honey,"  I  say,  "but  the  sorta 
pinch  I  got  in  mind  for  you  is  one  that  you  do  with 
your  fingers!  I'll  be  seein'  you." 

I  finish  my  coffee  an'  I  go  on  my  way.  Drivin'  along 
the  desert  road  I  get  to  thinkin'  about  Henrietta.  I 
wonder  how  she  has  liked  stickin'  around  the  Hacienda 
under  the  supervision  of  Periera.  I  remember  how  she 
'went  for  me  the  last  time  I  saw  her  down  at  the  police 
station  when  I  got  the  description  of  her  clothes  from 
her  an'  when  I  wouldn't  let  her  smoke.  I  figure  I  ain't 
goin'  so  good  with  Henrietta,  which  makes  me  grin  a 
bit  more.  Another  thing  is  I  think  that  before  I'm 
through  with  her  tonight  she's  goin'  to  hate  me  worse 
than  I  was  poison.  Still  I  have  had  dames  dislike  me 
before:  now. 

Pretty  soon  the  Hacienda  comes  in  sight.  The  neon 
lights  outside  are  twinklin',  but  there  is  only  a  few  cars 
around.  It  looks  like  they  are  havin'  an'  off  night.  I 
park  the  car  an'  walk  in  the  front  entrance  an'  standin' 
by  a  hat  room  on  the  right  talkin'  to  the  dame  who 
checks  in  the  hats  is  Periera.  He  grins  when  he  sees  me. 

"Buenos  noches,  Senor  Caution,"  he  says.  "I  am  ver' 
glad  to  see  you  some  more.  Everytheeng  has  been  very 
quiet  around  here,  and  the  Senora  Aymes — eef  you 
want  to  see  her  you  find  her  up  een  the  card  room." 

"That's  swell,"  I  tell  him.  "You're  a  good  guy, 
190 


HOOEY      FOR      TWO 

Periera,  an'  I  guess  you've  been  useful  to  me.  Maybe 
I'll  find  some  way  of  makin'  it  up  to  you." 

"They  are  all  up  there,  Sefior,"  he  says,  "Fernandez, 
and  Maloney — the  whole  lot  of  them.  But  don't  you 
pay  for  any  drinks.  Anytheeng  you  have  here  is,  what 
you  call,  on  the  house." 

I  go  into  the  dance  room.  There  are  not  many  people 
there  an'  the  band  is  sittin'  around  lookin'  like  bands 
always  do  when  there  ain't  nobody  to  listen  to  'em.  I 
walk  across  the  floor  an'  I  start  goin'  up  the  steps  that 
lead  to  the  balcony. 

When  I  have  walked  up  a  few  steps  I  remember  that 
this  is  the  place  where  I  found  Sager's  silver  shirt 
tassel.  I  stop  for  a  minute  and  look  around. 

You  remember  I  told  you  that  this  balcony  runs 
right  round  the  wall  of  the  Hacienda  Altmira.  It  is 
about  eighteen  to  twenty  feet  off  the  ground.  At  the 
top  of  the  stone  steps  where  I'm  standin'  is  the  card 
room.  Next  to  it  way  down  the  balcony  is  the  room 
where  Henrietta  took  Maloney  after  Fernandez  had 
socked  him  one.  Farther  down  in  the  corner  is  another 
room  an'  there  are  two  more  rooms  leadin'  off  the 
balcony  on  my  right-hand  side. 

I  go  up  the  stairs  an'  inta  the  card  room.  There  are 
about  twelve  people  in  there.  Fernandez  an'  Maloney 
an'  four  other  guys  are  playin'  poker  at  the  center  table, 
an'  the  rest  of  'em  includin'  Henrietta  are  standin' 
around  watchin'. 

When  I  go  in  Henrietta  looks  up.  She  sees  me  an* 
I  give  her  a  grin.  Her  face  freezes  an'  she  turns  her  back 
on  me. 

"Well,  well,  well,  Henrietta,"  I  say  to  her,  "you 

191 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

don't  meanta  say  you  ain't  goin'  to  say  good  evenin' 
to  your  old  friend  Lemmy?" 

"I've  told  you  what  I  think  of  you,"  she  says,  "and 
I'll  thank  you  not  to  talk  to  me.  I  hate  the  sight  of 
cheap  policemen." 

"That's  O.K.  by  me,  baby,"  I  tell  her.  "Maybe  before 
I'm  through  with  you  you're  goin'  to  hate  the  sight  of 
'em  some  more,  an'  if  I  was  you,  Henrietta,"  I  go  on, 
"I  wouldn't  get  too  fresh  because  I  can  make  things 
plenty  tough  for  you." 

There  is  a  sorta  silence.  The  guys  playin'  poker  have 
stopped.  Everybody  is  lookin'  at  Henrietta  an'  me. 

Maloney  gets  up. 

"Say  listen,  Caution,"  he  says.  "I  know  you've  got 
your  job  to  do,  but  there's  two  ways  of  doin'  it,  an* 
even  if  you  are  a  Federal  Agent  you  don't  have  to  get 
tough  with  Mrs.  Aymes." 

"You  don't  say,"  I  tell  him.  "O.K.  Well,  if  you 
want  it  that  way,  you  have  it.  Fernandez,"  I  say  turnin' 
to  him  where  he  is  sittin'  shufflin'  the  cards  through  his 
hands  an'  grinnin',  "I  guess  you  can  do  somethin'  for  me. 
Downstairs  outside  you  will  find  a  coupla  State  police- 
men. Bring  'em  up  here,  will  you?" 

"O.K.,"  says  Fernandez. 

He  gets  up  an'  he  goes  outa  the  room.  Maloney 
looks  serious. 

"What's  the  matter,  Caution?"  he  says.  "You  goin' 
to  make  a  pinch?" 

"Well,  what  do  you  think,  Maloney?"  I  tell  him. 
"That's  my  business,  makin'  pinches.  What  do  you 
think  I've  been  kickin'  around  here  for  goin'  into  this 
an'  that  if  I  wasn't  goin'  to  pinch  somebody  sometime?" 

He  don't  say  nothin',  but  he  looks  very  serious.  I 
192 


HOOEY      FOR      TWO 

give  myself  a  cigarette  an'  while  I  am  lightin'  it  the 
door  opens.  Fernandez  an'  Periera  come  in,  an'  behind 
'em  are  the  two  State  cops,  the  guys  who  have  been 
waitin'  downstairs  for  me  like  I  fixed  with  Metts. 
There  is  a  helluva  lotta  atmosphere  in  this  room.  Every- 
body is  waitin'  for  somethin'  to  break.  There  is  a  little 
sorta  smile  about  Fernandez'  face  as  he  sits  down  at  the 
table  again  an'  starts  runnin'  the  cards  through  his 
fingers.  I  turn  around  to  Henrietta. 

"Mrs.  Henrietta  Aymes,"  I  tell  her,  "I  am  a  Federal 
Agent  an'  I'm  arrestin'  you  on  a  charge  of  murderin' 
your  husband — Granworth  Aymes — on  the  night  of 
January  12th  last  at  Cotton's  Wharf,  New  York  City. 
I'm  also  arrestin'  you  on  a  charge  of  causin'  to  be  made 
an'  attemptin'  to  circulate  two  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars' worth  of  counterfeit  registered  United  States  Fed- 
eral Bonds,  an'  I  am  handin'  you  over  to  the  Chief  of 
Police  here  at  Palm  Springs  to  be  booked  on  those  charges 
an'  held  pendin'  extradition  for  trial  in  the  State  of 
New  York." 

I  turn  around  to  the  cops. 

"O.K.  boys,"  I  say.  "Take  her  away." 

Henrietta  don't  say  a  thing.  She  is  as  white  as  death 
an'  I  can  see  her  lips  tremblin'.  Maloney  steps  forward 
an'  takes  her  by  the  arm.  Then  he  turns  to  me. 

"Say,  this  is  tough,  Caution,"  he  says.  "This  ain't 
so  good.  I  thought.  .  .  ." 

"Impossible,"  I  tell  him,  "you  ain't  got  anythin'  to 
think  with.  But  if  you  want  to  be  the  little  hero  you 
can  go  back  to  Palm  Springs  with  Henrietta." 

"Thanks,"  he  says,  "I'd  like  to  do  that." 

He  goes  out  with  Henrietta  an'  the  cops  go  after  'em. 
I  turn  around  to  Periera. 

193 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

"I  wanta  talk  to  you  an*  Fernandez,"  I  say,  "so  I 
reckon  you'd  better  close  this  dump  down  an'  get  these 
people  outa  here,  an'  you  two  go  back  to  your  office 
where  we  can  sorta  talk  things  over." 

Periera  an'  Fernandez  an'  the  other  guys  go  outa 
the  room.  After  a  minute  downstairs  I  can  hear  people 
packin'  up  an'  clearin'  out.  I  go  over  to  the  sideboard 
an'  I  give  myself  a  shot  of  bourbon.  I  stick  around 
for  about  ten  minutes,  an'  then  Periera  comes  back  an' 
says  everything  is  O.K.  He  says  would  I  like  to  go 
along  to  his  office,  we  can  talk  easier  there.  I  follow 
after  him  along  the  balcony,  an'  we  go  into  his  room. 
Fernandez  is  sittin'  at  the  table  drinkin'  a  high  ball  an' 
smokin'  a  cigarette.  He  looks  up  as  we  go  in. 

"Well,  Mr.  Caution,"  he  says,  "it's  turned  out  the 
way  I  thought  it  was  going  to  turn  out.  I  always  knew 
she  done  it.  Have  a  drink?" 

I  tell  him  yes.  Periera  hands  me  a  cigarette  an'  lights 
it  for  me. 

"I  guess  I  have  played  it  the  only  way  I  could  play 
it,"  I  tell  'em.  "It's  stickin'  outa  foot  to  me  that  this 
dame  Henrietta  was  the  woman  who  got  outa  that  car, 
started  it  up  again  an'  sent  it  over  the  edge  of  the  wharf, 
but  I  wasn't  certain  of  that  till  tonight.  I  got  a  wire 
from  New  York  tonight  that  tells  me  that  the  maid 
Marie  Dubuinet  an'  the  night  watchman  on  Cotton's 
Wharf  identified  them  clothes  she  was  wearin'.  That's 
good  enough  for  me  an'  it  ties  the  job  up." 

"An'  you  reckon  she  done  the  counter feitin'?"  asked 
Fernandez. 

"No,"  I  say,  "she  didn't  do  it,  but  she  got  somebody 
else  to  do  it  for  her.  Who  that  is  I  don't  know,  but 
maybe  when  I  talk  to  her  tomorrow  mornin'  down  at 

194 


HOOEY      FOR      TWO 

the  jail,  she'll  feel  inclined  to  do  a  little  real  talkin'. 
Maybe  she  can  make  it  a  bit  easier  for  herself." 

Fernandez  gets  up  an'  pours  himself  out  another  high 
ball.  This  guy  is  lookin'  pretty  well  pleased  with  him- 
self. 

"I'm  surely  sorry  for  that  dame,"  he  says.  "I  guess 
she  has  got  herself  inta  a  bad  jam,  an*  one  that'll  take  a 
lotta  brains  to  get  her  out  of." 

"You're  tellin'  me,"  I  say,  "but  you  never  know 
where  you  are  with  dames.  Say  listen,  Fernandez,"  I 
go  on,  "what  was  the  big  idea  in  you  callin'  yourself 
Fernandez  an'  comin'  out  here  after  Aymes  died?" 

He  looks  up  an'  grins. 

"I  hadta  do  something,"  he  says,  "an*  I'd  met  Periera 
here,  before,  when  I  was  out  here  a  year  ago  drivin* 
Aymes.  An'  I  call  myself  Fernandez  because  it  don't 
sorta  hurt  so  much  as  my  real  name — Termiglo." 

He  gives  me  a  fresh  sorta  look. 

"Anything  else  you'd  like  to  know?"  he  says. 

"Yeah,"  I  tell  him.  "The  night  Aymes  died  you 
wasn't  on  duty,  was  you?" 

He  stubs  out  his  cigarette. 

"No,  I  wasn't,"  he  said.  "I  was  just  stickin*  around. 
So  what?" 

"Oh,  nothin',"  I  tell  him,  "but  I  thought  that  maybe 
you  could  let  me  know  where  you  was.  I  supposes  you 
musta  spent  the  evenin'  somewhere  an'  I  suppose  that 
somebody  musta  seen  you." 

He  laughs. 

"Sure,"  he  says.  "If  you  gotta  know  I  took  Henrietta's 
maid,  Marie,  to  the  movies.  I  didn't  know  I  hadta  have 
an  alibi." 

"You  don't  have  to  have  any  alibi,  Fernandez,"  I  tell 

195 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

him.    "I  just  sorta  wanta  know  where  everybody  was 
on  that  evenin',  that's  all." 

He  looks  at  Periera  sorta  quick.  I  walk  over  to  the 
side  table  an'  give  myself  a  drink.  I  am  just  imbibin' 
this  liquor  when  the  telephone  bell  rings.  Fernandez 
picks  up  the  receiver  an'  then  looks  at  me. 

"Its  for  you,"  he  says.  "Metts,  the  Palm  Springs 
Chief  of  Police,  wants  you." 

"Say  listen,  Lemmy,"  says  Metts.  "There's  a  mar- 
riage threatenin'  around  here  an'  I  wanta  know  what  I 
oughta  do  about  it.  I  suppose  it's  O.K.?" 

"What  are  you  talkin'  about,  Metts,"  I  ask  him. 
"Who's  goin'  to  marry  who  an'  why,  an'  what's  it 
got  to  do  with  me?  I  thought  that  maybe  somebody 
else  had  got  committin'  some  crime  or  something.  Who 
is  it  that's  goin'  screwy  an'  wantin'  to  get  hitched  up?" 

"It's  Henrietta  an'  Maloney,"  he  says.  "When  they 
got  back  here  Maloney  says  that  you  have  pinched 
Henrietta  for  killin'  Aymes  an'  on  a  counterfeitin' 
charge  as  well,  an'  that  you're  a  heel.  He  says  that  she's 
broke — she  ain't  got  any  dough  at  all,  an'  that  you're 
framin'  her.  He  says  that  he  reckons  the  best  thing  he 
can  do  is  to  get  married  to  her  so's  there'll  be  somebody 
to  look  after  her  an'  get  her  a  lawyer  an'  generally 
hang  around.  He  says  that  he's  talked  it  over  with  her 
an'  she's  so  het  up  that  she's  prepared  to  agree  to  any- 
thing. 

"Well,  what  could  I  say?  They  both  been  resident 
here  an'  they're  entitled  to  marry,  so  I  rang  up  the 
Justice  an'  he's  comin'  around  here  in  about  half  an  hour 
to  tie  'em  up.  After  a  bit  I  sorta  got  the  idea  that  maybe 
you  oughta  know  something  about  this  an'  so  I  called 
through." 

196 


HOOEY      FOR      TWO 

"Thanks  a  lot,  Metts,"  I  say.  "Don't  you  worry  about 
it.  I'm  comin'  back  right  now,  an'  I  reckon  I'm  goin' 
to  stop  this  marriage  pronto.  Say,  what  the  hell  does 
Maloney  think  he's  doin*  usin'  your  police  office  as  a 
marriage  bureau? 

"Don't  you  say  anything  until  I  get  around.  Just 
stall  'em  an'  play  'em  along,  but  don't  you  let  any 
marriages  take  place  around  there.  Got  me?" 

He  says  he  gets  me,  an'  scrams. 

I  put  the  telephone  down. 

"Fernandez,"  I  say,  "I  often  been  wonderin'  why 
you  was  so  keen  to  get  yourself  hitched  up  to  Henrietta 
an'  then  suddenly  shied  off.  I  suppose  it  was  because 
you  thought  that  she'd  had  a  hand  in  this  counter- 
feitin'?" 

He  nods. 

"That's  the  way  it  was,"  he  says.  "An'  when  you 
come  gumshoein'  around  here  it  began  to  look  to  me 
like  she  knew  a  damn  sight  more  about  Aymes'  death 
than  a  lot  of  us  thought,  so  I  sorta  laid  off." 

"I  got  it,"  I  tell  him.  "Well,  I  gotta  scram  now, 
but  there's  just  one  little  thing  I  gotta  say  to  you  guys 
an'  that  is  that  I'll  probably  have  to  ask  both  of  you  to 
take  a  trip  back  to  New  York  with  me  tomorrow.  I 
reckon  that  you're  both  goin'  to  be  material  witnesses 
in  this  case  against  Henrietta.  Anyhow,  I  reckon  the 
D.A.  ought  to  hear  what  you  gotta  say." 

Periera  starts  a  lot  of  stuff  about  not  being  able  to 
leave  the  Hacienda,  but  Fernandez  shuts  him  up. 

"If  we  gotta  go  we  gotta  go,"  he  says.  "An'  person- 
ally speakin'  a  few  days  in  New  York  at  the  govern- 
ment's expense  wouldn't  be  so  bad  neither." 

"O.K.,"  I  say.  "Well  the  pair  of  you  had  better  be 
197 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

ready  to  go  back  there  with  me  tomorrow.  If  you  got 
any  business  to  clean  up  here  you  better  get  it  fixed.  We 
oughta  be  leavin'  pretty  early  in  the  mornin'.  "Well,  so 
long,  I'll  be  seein'  you." 

I  scram.  I  get  outside  an'  start  the  car  up.  I  drive 
pretty  fast  for  half  a  mile  an'  then  look  out  for  the  cop 
that  I  fixed  with  Metts  to  have  waitin'  for  me.  In  a 
minute  I  see  him,  sittin'  behind  a  Joshua  tree  off  the 
road. 

"Get  along  to  the  Hacienda  Altmira  as  quick  as  you 
can,"  I  tell  him.  "Come  in  by  the  back  way,  an'  keep 
your  mount  under  cover.  Don't  let  'em  see  you.  Watch 
the  place.  There's  only  Periera  an'  Fernandez  inside. 
If  they  come  out  an'  go  any  place  tail  'em,  but  I  don't 
figure  they  will.  I  figure  they'll  be  stickin'  around.  I'll 
be  back  in  pretty  near  an  hour  or  so." 

He  says  O.K.  an'  he  scrams. 

I  drive  on.  I  go  whizzin'  along  the  road  to  Palm 
Springs  like  somebody  has  put  hot  lead  in  my  pants, 
an'  I  am  hurryin'  because  I  reckon  I  gotta  stop  this 
marryin'  nonsense  on  the  part  of  Henrietta  an'  Maloney. 

But  when  I  come  to  think  this  thing  out,  I  sorta 
realize  that  I  don't  really  give  a  damn  if  Henrietta  does 
marry  Maloney.  It  won't  make  any  difference  anyhow, 
except  that  it  might  sorta  be  inconvenient  havin'  regard 
to  one  or  two  things  that  I  got  in  my  mind  about  that 
dame. 

My  old  mother  always  usta  tell  me  that  there  was 
only  one  thing  worse  than  one  dame  an'  that  is  two 
dames.  I  reckon  King  Solomon  musta  been  nuts.  Just 
imagine  stickin'  around  with  four  hundred  dames  an* 
tryin'  to  play  ball  with  the  whole  outfit.  Still  you  gotta 
admit  that  these  old  time  guys  had  something  an* 

198 


HOOEY      FOR      TWO 

if  you  read  your  history  books  why  I  guess  you  gotta 
say  that  as  the  centuries  go  rollin'  by  guys  just  get  more 
and  more  indifferent  all  the  time.  Maybe  you  figure 
that  this  English  guy,  Henry  the  Eighth,  was  a  real 
he-man,  just  because  he  had  six  wives,  but  if  you  com- 
pare him  with  King  Solomon  he  is  nothin'  but  a  big 
sissy.  What's  six  against  four  hundred? 

When  I  get  to  Metts'  house,  I  bust  right  in  to  his 
room  an'  he  is  sittin'  behind  the  desk  waitin'  for  me  an' 
smokin'  a  pipe  that  smells  like  it  was  loaded  with  onions. 

"What's  all  this  hooey  about  Henrietta  marryin* 
Maloney?"  I  ask  him. 

He  grins. 

"Maloney  brings  her  back  here,"  he  says,  "an*  she  is 
all  burned  up  about  bein'  pinched  for  killin'  Granworth 
an'  she  hasn't  got  any  dough  an'  figures  that  she  won't 
be  able  to  get  a  lawyer.  So  Maloney  says  he  figures  that 
if  they  sorta  get  married  he  can  see  her  through.  So  he 
speaks  to  me  about  it,  an'  I  says  its  O.K.  by  me.  So  I 
dig  out  the  local  Justice  an'  he's  in  there  now  gettin* 
ready  to  marry  'em." 

"Well,  he  aint  goin'  to,"  I  say.  "Look  here  Metts. 
That  pinch  of  Henrietta's  was  a  fake.  She  never  killed 
anybody,  but  I  just  hadta  play  it  that  way.  Take  me 
along  to  this  weddin'." 

He  gets  up  an'  puts  his  pipe  away,  for  which  I  am 
very  glad,  an'  we  go  into  the  next  room. 

Somebody  has  putta  lotta  flowers  on  the  table  an* 
standin'  in  front  of  it,  with  a  Justice  gettin'  ready  to 
shoot  the  works,  an'  a  coupla  State  cops  for  witnesses, 
are  Henrietta  an'  Maloney. 

"Justa  minute,"  I  say.  "I  think  that  I'm  stoppin'  this 
weddin'  because  it  don't  look  so  good  to  me." 

199 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

I  turn  around  to  the  Justice  an'  tell  him  that  I  am 
sorry  that  he  has  been  troubled  about  this  an'  got  outa 
bed  but  that  there  ain't  goin'  to  be  any  weddin'.  He 
scrams  an'  the  two  cops  go  with  him. 

Then  Henrietta  starts  in.  She  asks  me  what  I  think 
I  am  doin'  an'  who  I  am  to  get  around  stoppin'  people 
from  gettin'  married.  She  says  that  she  has  got  Metts' 
permission  an'  that  she's  goin'  through  with  it.  She 
says  that  I  have  been  houndin'  her  around,  bringin' 
false  charges  against  her  an'  generally  ridin'  her  around 
the  place  an'  that  if  Maloney  is  man  enough  to  try  an' 
protect  her  against  any  more  stuff  on  my  part  then  he 
is  entitled  to  go  through  with  it. 

I'm  tellin'  you  that  Henrietta  was  burned  up.  Her 
eyes  are  flashin'  an'  she  looked  swell. 

"I  don't  think  I've  ever  hated  anybody  like  I  hate  and 
detest  you,"  she  says.  "I  told  you  that  you  were  a  heel 
and  that  is  what  I  think  you  are." 

She  shuts  up  because  she  ain't  got  any  more  breath. 

Maloney  weighs  in. 

"Look  here,  Caution,"  he  says,  "have  a  heart.  You've 
got  no  authority  to  stop  a  marriage.  Somebody's  got 
to  look  after  Henrietta.  She's  in  a  bad  jam,  an'  you're 
ridin'  her  an'  makin'  it  a  damn  sight  worse.  An*  let 
me  tell  you  this.  .  .  ." 

I  put  my  hand  over  his  mouth. 

"Now  shut  up  you  two,  an'  listen  to  me,"  I  tell  'em 
both,  "an'  you  can  be  in  on  this  too,  Metts.  Henrietta, 
I  want  you  to  get  a  load  of  what  I  am  sayin'  an'  remem- 
ber it  because  it's  important. 

"Just  how  much  you  don't  like  me  don't  matter  a 
cuss.  I'm  doin'  a  job  an'  I'm  doin'  it  in  my  own  par- 

200 


HOOEY       FOR       TWO 

ticular  way.  Maybe,  Henrietta,  when  this  job's  over 
you'll  be  inclined  to  take  a  kick  at  yourself  for  bein' 
so  damn  fresh,  but  in  the  meantime  get  this: 

"My  arrestin'  you  tonight  out  at  the  Hacienda  Alt- 
mira  was  just  a  fake.  I  done  it  for  a  purpose  an'  with 
a  bitta  luck  what  I  want  to  happen  will  happen,  an' 
then  everything  will  be  hunky  dory.  I  hadta  make 
Periera  an'  Fernandez  believe  that  I  was  pinchin'  you 
for  this  counterfeitin'  job  an'  I've  warned  'em  both 
that  I'm  takin'  'em  back  to  New  York  with  me  to- 
morrow. 

"O.K.  Well,  right  now  I'm  scrammin*  back  to  the 
Hacienda,  but  before  I  go  I  wanta  wise  you  up  to  some- 
thing, Henrietta,  an'  don't  you  forget  it.  Sometime 
tonight  you're  goin'  to  meet  Mrs.  Paulette  Benito — 
the  dame  that  your  husband  was  playin'  around  with; 
the  dame  that  got  the  two  hundred  grand  in  real  regis- 
tered Federal  bonds. 

"All  right,  now  get  this.  I'm  goin'  to  pin  the  murder 
of  Granworth  Aymes  on  this  Paulette.  I'm  goin'  to 
prove  she  did  it.  Now  Granworth  Aymes  was  bumped 
off  by  one  of  two  women,  because  there  was  only  two 
women  saw  him  on  the  evenin'  of  the  12th  January. 
One  was  Henrietta  here  an'  the  other  was  Paulette. 

"Right,  now  I'm  goin'  to  eliminate  Henrietta  from 
this  business  by  producin'  a  bit  of  fake  evidence.  I'm 
goin'  to  say  that  we've  checked  up  at  New  York  an' 
that  we  know  that  Henrietta  here  couldn'ta  killed 
Aymes  because  she  left  New  York  on  a  train  that  left 
the  depot  five  minutes  before  the  night  watchman  saw 
the  Aymes  car  go  over  the  edge  of  Cotton's  Wharf.  I'm 
goin'  to  say  that  a  ticket  clerk  an'  a  train  attendant  both 

201 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

identify  Henrietta's  picture  as  bein'  that  of  a  woman 
who  was  on  the  train  goin'  back  to  Hartford. 

"Now  have  you  got  that  Henrietta?  You  was  on  that 
train  goin'  back  to  Hartford,  Connecticut,  an'  it  left 
the  depot  at  eight-forty.  An'  don't  forget  it." 

She  looks  at  me  sorta  curious.  She  is  lookin'  tired 
an'  it  looks  like  she  might  start  weepin'  at  any  minute. 

"All  right,  Lemmy,"  she  says.  "I  don't  understand, 
but  I'll  remember." 

"O.K.,"  I  tell  her.  "Now  I'm  goin'  to  scram."  I 
turn  around  to  Metts.  "Let  these  two  stick  around," 
I  tell  him.  "Henrietta  ain't  under  arrest  for  anything. 
But  I  don't  want  'em  to  leave  here.  I  want  'em  here 
when  I  get  back." 

When  I  get  to  the  door  I  turn  round  an'  look  at 
Henrietta.  She  is  almost  smilin'. 

"An'  when  I  get  back,  honeybunch,"  I  say,  "I'll  tell 
you  why  I  stopped  you  marryin'  Maloney!" 


202 


CHAPTER   XIII 

DUET    FOR    STIFFS 

I  RECKON  that  I  am  glad  I  stopped  Henrietta  marryin' 
Maloney. 

As  I  go  whizzin'  along  the  road  towards  the  hacienda 
I  start  doin'  a  little  philosophizing  in  regard  to  dames.  I 
have  told  you  that  they  got  rhythm  an'  technique;  but 
they  also  gotta  helluva  lot  of  other  things  as  well  some 
of  which  are  not  so  hot. 

Dames  fly  off  the  handle  any  time.  They  just  go 
off  anyhow;  they  are  like  skyrockets.  You  can  take  an 
ordinary  honest-to-goodness  dame  an'  mix  her  with  a 
little  bitta  excitement  an'  maybe  a  spot  of  love  an'  she 
just  goes  nuts,  an'  when  she  goes  nuts  she  always  has 
to  put  some  guy  in  bad  just  so's  she'll  be  in  company. 
It  ain't  the  things  that  dames  do  that  worries  me  it's 
the  things  that  they  get  guys  to  do  for  'em. 

I've  heard  folks  say  that  the  difference  between  a 
man  an'  a  woman  is  so  little  that  it  don't  matter.  Well 
you  don't  want  to  believe  these  guys.  They're  wrong. 
A  man  is  controlled  by  his  head  an'  a  woman  by  her 
instinct,  an'  in  nine  cases  outa  ten  a  woman's  instinct 
is  just  the  way  she's  feelin'  that  mornin'. 

An'  the  way  Henrietta  feels  now  is  that  she  would 
like  to  marry  Maloney  just  because  she's  in  a  jam  an' 
because  she  thinks  that  she  ain't  got  any  friends,  an' 
that  I  am  ridin'  her  like  hell  an'  that  in  Maloney  she 
will  have  a  good  guy  who  will  look  after  her  an'  act  as  a 
buttress  between  her  an'  the  wicked  world. 

203 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

Hooey! 

Maloney  wouldn't  be  any  good  at  all  for  Henrietta. 
Why?  Well,  didn't  I  see  all  them  little  shoes  of  hers  set 
out  in  rows,  the  night  that  I  bust  into  the  rancho  where 
she  is  stayin'.  Them  shoes  told  me  she  had  class  an* 
although  Maloney  is  a  good  guy  he  ain't  on  the  same 
boulevard  as  Henrietta,  not  by  a  mile,  an'  another  thing 
is  that  he  only  thinks  he  is  fond  of  Henrietta.  He  ain't 
really  in  love  with  her  at  all.  If  he'd  been  really  stuck 
on  this  dame  he  wouldn'ta  let  me  play  her  around  on  this 
job  the  way  I  have  had  to  do.  He  woulda  done  some- 
thing about  it. 

I  figure  I'll  be  pretty  glad  when  I  have  got  this  case 
sewed  up  an'  in  the  bag.  You  gotta  realize  that  except 
for  a  coupla  hours  sleep  I  had  at  Yuma  I  have  been 
kickin'  around  for  practically  three  days  an'  three  nights 
without  sleepin',  an'  I  am  a  guy  who  is  very  fond  of  bed. 

By  this  time  I  am  half  a  mile  from  the  Hacienda.  I 
pull  the  car  off  the  road  an'  leave  it  behind  some  sage 
brush.  Then  I  start  easin'  over  towards  the  house.  Pres- 
ently I  come  across  the  State  policeman's  motor-cycle 
where  he  has  left  it,  an'  a  few  yards  farther  on  I  find 
him. 

He  tells  me  that  nobody  has  left  the  Hacienda  except 
when  Fernandez  has  come  out  an'  driven  a  car  from  the 
garage  around  to  the  front.  He  says  Periera  an'  Fer- 
nandez have  been  droppin'  things  into  this  car  from  the 
veranda  over  the  front  entrance  so  it  looks  as  if  my 
idea  is  workin'  out. 

I  do  not  see  that  it  is  any  good  havin'  this  cop 
hangin'  around,  so  I  tell  him  to  scram  back  to  Palm 
Springs.  When  I  have  done  this  an'  he  is  outa  the 
way,  I  walk  over  to  the  back  of  the  Hacienda.  I  go 

204 


DUET      FOR      STIFFS 

up  past  the  wall  that  runs  along  from  the  garage  an'  up 
to  the  back  door  that  leads  into  the  store  room,  the  place 
where  I  found  Sager's  body.  This  door  is  locked,  but  I 
work  on  it  an'  after  a  few  minutes  I  get  it  open. 

I  go  inside,  lock  it  behind  me,  walk  along  the  passage 
an'  get  down  into  the  store  room.  I  go  across  the  store 
room  an'  very  quietly  I  start  movin'  up  the  steps  that 
lead  to  the  door  behind  the  bar.  This  door  is  not  locked. 
I  open  it  justa  little  bit  so  that  I  can  put  my  eye  to  the 
crack  an'  look  out. 

In  front  of  me  I  can  see  the  dance  floor  of  the  Hac- 
ienda. All  the  lights  are  out,  but  from  where  I  am 
I  can  see  the  door  of  Periera's  office  on  the  balcony  along 
the  opposite  wall.  The  door  is  a  little  bit  open  an5  there 
is  a  light  inside.  From  where  I  am  I  can  just  hear  Fer- 
nandez an'  Periera  talkin'. 

I  light  myself  a  cigarette,  hold  it  behind  the  door  so 
that  they  cannot  see  the  light,  an'  I  wait  there  about  ten 
minutes.  I  can  still  hear  their  voices  dronin'.  Then  I 
hear  Fernandez  laugh.  After  a  bit  the  door  opens  an' 
he  comes  out  an'  stands  in  the  doorway.  As  the  light 
falls  on  his  face  I  can  see  that  he  is  smokin'  a  cigarette 
an'  lookin'  pretty  pleased  with  himself. 

Then  he  goes  back  into  the  office  an'  comes  out  again 
in  a  minute  carryin'  a  suitcase.  He  starts  walkin'  along 
the  balcony  towards  the  place  where  it  ends  which  is 
just  over  the  main  entrance  to  the  Hacienda.  I  think 
for  a  minute  that  he  is  goin'  into  the  end  room  on  the 
balcony,  but  he  don't.  He  passes  it.  He  keeps  on  walkin' 
an'  he  goes  to  where  there  is  a  big  picture  on  the  wall. 

He  waits  there  for  a  minute  an'  then  Periera  comes 
out.  They  both  get  hold  of  this  picture  an'  start  takin' 
it  down.  When  they  have  done  this,  they  lean  it  up 

205 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

against  the  wall,  an'  I  can  see  that  behind  the  picture 
is  a  sorta  hatchway  in  the  wall. 

Periera  goes  back  to  the  office  an'  closes  the  door 
behind  him.  Fernandez  climbs  through  the  hatch  in 
the  wall  an'  disappears.  I  push  open  the  door  an'  step 
into  the  bar.  I  jump  over  it  an'  start  gumshoein'  up  the 
stairs.  I  pull  the  Luger  while  I  am  goin'  up. 

I  am  very  quick  an'  very  quiet,  an'  the  first  thing  that 
Periera  knows  is  that  I  am  standin'  in  the  open  doorway 
of  his  office  with  the  gun  on  him.  From  this  place  I  can 
keep  an  eye  on  the  hatch  down  the  balcony  just  in  case 
Fernandez  decides  to  come  out. 

Periera  looks  surprised.  His  mouth  sags  open  an* 
some  little  beads  of  sweat  come  across  his  forehead.  I 
reckon  this  Periera  is  a  yellow  cuss  anyhow. 

"Well,  Periera,"  I  tell  him.  "It  don't  look  so  good 
for  you  does  it?  It  looks  as  if  you  two  guys  are  not 
goin'  to  have  such  a  good  time  from  now  on.  Now  you 
take  a  tip  from  me  an'  do  what  I  tell  you,  otherwise 
things  is  goin'  to  look  pretty  bad  for  you.  Have  you 
gotta  key  to  this  door?" 

He  says  yes  an'  pulls  it  outa  his  pocket.  I  take  it  off 
him. 

"O.K.,"  I  say.  "Now  I'm  lockin'  you  in  here  an' 
leavin'  you  in  here.  Just  take  a  word  of  advice  an' 
stick  around  until  I  come  for  you  again,  otherwise  I  am 
goin'  to  get  very  tough  with  you.  I'll  be  seein'  you." 

I  step  out  on  to  the  balcony,  pull  the  door  shut  an' 
lock  it.  I  figure  I  am  pretty  safe  in  leavin'  Periera  there. 
I  don't  think  he  will  try  anythin'  because  he  is  not  the 
sorta  guy  who  would.  He  is  frightened  sick.  Then  I 
gumshoe  along  the  balcony,  keepin'  my  gun  ready  in 
case  Fernandez  comes  through  the  hatch. 

206 


DUET      FOR      STIFFS 

When  I  get  to  it  I  climb  through.  I  find  myself  in  a 
little  room  that  would  be  right  above  the  passage  that 
leads  from  the  front  entrance  to  the  dance  floor.  There 
is  a  lantern  burnin'  on  the  floor  an'  by  the  light  from 
it  I  can  see  in  the  corner  of  the  room  a  flight  of  iron 
steps  curvin'  down  towards  some  place  underneath  on 
the  left. 

I  slip  along  down  these  steps  an'  at  the  bottom  I 
find  myself  in  a  long  stone  passage.  I  do  a  bit  of  thinkin' 
an'  I  come  to  the  conclusion  that  this  passage  runs 
underground  from  the  main  room  of  the  Hacienda 
along  underneath  the  adobe  wall  that  is  at  the  rear 
end  of  the  garage.  I  figure  this  passage  was  originally 
a  sorta  cellar  in  the  house.  Anyhow  it  makes  a  pretty 
swell  hide-out. 

I  go  along  the  passage  until  I  come  to  a  wooden  door 
at  the  end.  There  is  a  light  comin'  from  underneath 
it.  I  kick  this  door  open,  step  into  the  room  on  the  other 
side  quick.  I  am  in  a  stone  cellar.  There  is  a  couple  of 
electric  lights  fixed  up,  and  in  the  opposite  corner  I 
can  see  Fernandez  packin'  up  some  papers  in  the  suitcase 
stuck  against  the  wall.  On  the  left  hand  side  of  the 
cellar  are  two  big  printin'  presses  an'  packed  against  the 
wall  on  the  other  side  are  a  lotta  boxes  an'  on  shelves 
above  'em  are  bottles,  brushes  an'  stencil  plates. 

So  I  am  dead  right. 

"Well,  Fernandez,"  I  say. 

He  spins  around.  I  show  him  the  gun. 

"Take  it  easy,  big  boy,"  I  tell  him,  "because  gettin' 
excited  certainly  ain't  goin'  to  get  you  nowhere  now, 
an*  you  know  so  far  as  you  are  concerned  it  woulda 
been  a  lot  easier  for  you  an'  Periera  if  you'd  aimed  a 
little  bit  better  that  night  when  you  took  a  shot  at  me 

207 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

when  I  was  drivin'  back  to  Palm  Springs.  I  knew  it 
was  you  all  along,  but  I  thought  at  the  time  that  you 
might  like  to  think  that  I  thought  maybe  it  was  Henri- 
etta who  was  doin'  the  shootin'." 

I  walk  over  to  him. 

"Go  an'  get  yourself  against  the  wall  on  the  other 
side  an*  reach  for  the  ceilin',"  I  tell  him,  "an'  I  wouldn't 
move  if  I  was  you.  If  I  see  one  twitch  outa  you  I'm 
goin'  to  give  it  to  you  the  same  as  you  gave  it  to  Sagers, 
you  lousy  heel." 

He  starts  walkin'  over  but  keeps  his  hands  up. 

"Say  what  the  hell  do  you  mean,  Caution?"  he  says. 
"You  can't  get  away  with  this  stuff.  You  can't  .  .  ." 

"You  shut  your  head  an'  do  what  I  tellya,  Fernandez," 
I  say,  "otherwise  I'm  goin'  to  execute  you  here  an'  now, 
which  is  a  thing  which  I  would  not  like  to  do  because  I 
would  hate  to  do  the  electric  chair  outa  a  good  customer, 
an'  the  day  they  fry  you  I'm  goin'  to  give  myself  a  big 
high  ball  just  to  celebrate.  Turn  your  face  to  the  wall, 
keep  your  hands  up  an*  stay  quiet,  otherwise  I'll  blast 
your  spine  in." 

He  does  what  I  tell  him.  I  look  inta  the  case  he  has 
been  packin'  up.  You  never  saw  such  a  lotta  stuff  in 
your  life.  It  is  fulla  stock  an'  share  certificates,  United 
States  Federal  bonds,  United  States  gold  certificates,  one 
thousand  dollar  bills,  an*  what  have  you.  I  take  some  of 
this  stuff  out,  walk  over  to  where  the  electric  light  is  an' 
look  at  it  carefully. 

The  whole  damn  lot  is  counterfeit. 

"So  that's  the  way  it  is,  Fernandez,"  I  tell  him.  "I 
thought  I  was  guessin'  right.  I  guess  you  an'  Periera 
are  bigger  mugs  than  I  thought  you  were.  I  knew  when 

208 


DUET      FOR      STIFFS 

I  told  you  that  phoney  stuff  tonight  about  my  takin' 
you  to  New  York  in  the  mornin'  as  material  witnesses 
that  you'd  have  to  clean  this  stuff  up  so  that  nobody 
would  find  it  while  you  was  away.  I  figured  if  I  came 
back  here  I'd  find  you  at  it.  Well,  I  was  right. 

"I  suppose  now  you're  goin'  to  tell  me  that  this  ain't 
a  counterfeitin'  joint,  an'  even  if  it  was,  you  wouldn't 
know  anythin'  about  it.  Well,  it  was  a  swell  idea  too. 
I  guess  it  was  damn  easy  to  work  off  some  of  this  phoney 
stuff  on  clients  up  in  the  card  room  when  they'd  had  too 
much  liquor  to  tell  the  difference  between  a  bad  bill  an' 
a  good  one.  It  was  a  swell  idea,  but  it  ain't  goin'  to  be  so 
swell  for  you.  Come  on,  let's  get  goin'." 

I  take  him  up  the  stairs,  push  him  through  the  hatch 
an'  along  the  balcony.  I  unlock  Periera's  room  an'  I 
shove  him  inside.  I  go  in  after  him  an'  close  the  door 
behind  me. 

Periera  is  sittin'  at  the  desk  lookin'  as  scared  as  hell. 
I  frisk  Fernandez  an'  take  a  gun  off  him  that  he  has 
got  on  his  hip.  Then  I  tell  him  to  go  an'  sit  down  along- 
side Periera.  He  calls  me  a  nasty  name. 

"I  oughta  had  more  sense,"  he  says.  "I  oughta  have 
known  that  all  that  stuff  you  said  about  us  goin'  to 
New  York  as  witnesses  was  a  lotta  baloney." 

"You're  dead  right,  Fernandez,"  I  tell  him.  "You 
oughta  have  had  a  lot  more  sense.  You  guys  are  the 
fall  guys  all  right.  I  put  on  a  nice  little  act  up  here 
tonight  in  front  of  you  arrestin'  Henrietta  for  killin' 
Granworth  Aymes  an'  counterfeitin',  an'  you  fell  for 
it.  You  thought  that  the  big  idea  of  framin'  this  poor 
dame  for  the  jobs  you've  been  doin'  had  come  off.  You 
musta  thought  I  was  a  mug. 

209 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

"You  guys  thought  you'd  get  away  with  the  whole 
works.  Well  you  didn't.  You  made  your  mistake  an' 
you're  goin'  to  pay  plenty  for  it." 

I  stand  there  lookin'  at  'em.  Periera  is  holdin'  his 
head  between  his  hands.  He  looks  as  if  he  is  finished, 
but  Fernandez  has  got  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  He  is 
tiltin'  his  chair  back,  grinnin'. 

"If  you  ain't  the  finest  pair  of  lousy  heels  in  the 
world,  I'm  a  Dutchman,"  I  say.  "But  you  know  you 
guys  can  still  learn  somethin'.  I  never  yet  knew  a 
crook  who  didn't  get  too  clever  an'  catch  himself  out, 
an'  that  don't  only  go  for  you  neither.  Your  pal  Lang- 
don  Burdell,  Marie  Dubuinet — the  maid  at  the  apart- 
ment— an'  that  wharf  watchman  guy — James  Fargal, 
are  all  as  big  saps  as  you  are.  They've  blown  the  works 
good  an'  plenty.  Maybe  you'll  like  to  know  how.  Well, 
I'll  tell  you. 

"You  remember  when  I  had  you  two  guys  down  at 
the  police  station  at  Palm  Springs  just  before  I  went 
away,  the  day  I  pulled  that  big  act  about  gruellin' 
Henrietta  about  the  clothes  she  was  wearin'?  You  re- 
member, Fernandez,  I  showed  you  a  list  of  the  clothes 
an'  I  told  you  that  I  was  goin'  to  send  it  through  to 
New  York  an'  that  if  Marie  Dubuinet  an'  the  watchman 
identified  them  clothes  then  that  would  show  me  that 
it  was  Henrietta  who  was  in  the  car  with  Granworth? 
You  remember  that? 

"Well  I  just  didn't  tell  you  guys  one  thing.  I  just 
didn't  tell  you  that  I  altered  that  list.  It  wasn't  the  list 
of  clothes  I  got  from  Henrietta.  She  was  wearin'  a 
black  Persian  coat  an'  hat  on  that  night,  but  in  the  list  I 
showed  you — the  one  I  sent  through  to  New  York — / 

210 


DUET      FOR      STIFFS 

altered  it.   I  made  out  she  was  wearin'  a  brown  leather 
hat  an'  a  muskrat  coat. 

"An'  the  sap  maid  Marie  Dubuinet  an'  the  sap  night 
watchman,  both  of  'em  fell  for  the  little  trap  I  set  for 
'em.  They  both  say  they  identify  the  list  as  being  the 
clothes  that  Henrietta  was  wearin'  that  night.  Well 
that  told  me  all  I  wanted  to  know.  It  told  me  that  she 
wasn't  the  dame  in  the  car  with  Aymes,  it  showed  me 
that  the  dame  in  the  car  was  your  little  playmate  Paul- 
ette  Benito,  an'  it  also  showed  me  that  the  whole  damn 
lot  of  you  was  in  on  this  job,  an'  how  do  you  like  that?" 

They  don't  say  nothin'. 

"I  guess  I  have  met  some  lousy  heels  since  I've  been 
kickin'  around  in  the  Federal  Service,"  I  tell  'em,  "an* 
I  guess  I've  met  some  thugs  who  wouldn't  stop  at  any- 
thin'  at  all,  but  I  think  that  you  bunch  of  guys,  with  the 
big  idea  you've  been  tryin'  to  pull,  are  just  about  the 
top  of  the  list.  You  make  me  sick." 

Periera  gives  a  moan.  He  starts  cryin'.  He  is  also 
sweatin'  considerable.  I  figure  he  is  just  ripe  for  me 
to  fix  him.  I  go  over  to  the  side  table  an'  I  pour  out 
a  shot  of  bourbon.  I  take  it  back  an'  I  give  it  to  him. 

"Drink  that  up,  big  boy,"  I  say,  "while  you've  got 
the  chance.  I  reckon  they  won't  give  you  a  drink  on 
the  day  they  fry  you." 

He  looks  up. 

"Senor,"  he  says,  "they  can't  fry  me.  I  done  nothin'. 
I  keel  nobody." 

"Yeah,"  I  tell  him. 

I  take  a  chair  an'  sit  down,  an'  look  at  him. 

"Listen,"  I  say,  "I  guess  you've  got  enough  sense  to 
know  what  sorta  jam  you're  in.  If  you're  wise  you're 

211 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

goin'  to  make  things  as  easy  as  you  can  for  yourself. 
Now,  right  now  I'm  not  interested  in  the  counterf  eitin'. 
I  know  that  was  done  here,  an'  I  figure  I  know  the  whole 
story  of  it.  The  thing  that's  takin'  my  notice  at  the 
present  moment  is  this: 

"Somebody  here — one  of  you  two  guys — shot  Jeremy 
Sagers.  Now  I  guess  I  know  who  bumped  him.  I've  got 
it  all  figured  out,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  about  one 
thing.  The  guy  who  shot  him  is  goin'  to  fry  for  it,  an' 
maybe  the  other  guy  will  be  lucky.  Maybe  he'll  get 
away  with  from  five  to  twenty  years  for  being  accessory 
to  counterfeitin'." 

I  stop  an'  light  myself  a  cigarette.  I'm  giving  these 
two  guys  plenty  of  time  to  stew. 

After  a  bit  I  go  on. 

"Now  all  you  two  guys  have  got  to  consider  is  which 
one  is  goin'  to  be  tried  for  what.  If  one  of  you  likes  to 
squeal  on  the  other,  O.K.  Otherwise  I'm  goin'  to  hold 
you  both  on  the  murder  charge,  an'  if  the  Court  don't 
feel  so  good  about  you  I  guess  they'll  fry  the  pair  of  you. 
But  with  luck  one  of  you  can  get  away  with  it.  So  my 
advice  to  you  is  to  get  busy  an'  start  thinkin',  otherwise 
maybe  two  bums  are  goin'  to  get  fried  for  one  killin'." 

I  sit  there  waitin'.  Fernandez  is  still  grinnin'.  He  has 
still  got  his  chair  tilted  back.  He  just  looks  at  me  an' 
sneers. 

But  Periera  ain't  feelin*  so  good,  not  by  a  long  way 
he  ain't.  He  is  sweatin'  more  than  ever,  an'  his  hands 
are  tremblin'.  I  reckon  in  a  minute  he  will  start  to 
squeal  just  because  he  is  that  sorta  guy.  An'  I  am  right. 
We  stick  around  there  for  about  half  a  minute  an'  then 
he  starts  talkin'. 

"I   don't   shoot   nobody,   Senor,"   he   says.     "Me — I 

212 


DUET      FOR      STIFFS 

nevaire  keel  any  guy,  nevaire  in  my  life  do  I  keel  a  guy. 
I  nevaire  had  no  gun.  I  tell  the  trut'.  I  nevaire  keel 
Sagers." 

"So  you  didn't,"  I  tell  him.  "All  right,  Periera,"  I 
say.  "Now  you  listen  to  me.  I  will  do  the  talkin',  all 
you  gotta  say  is  yes  if  I'm  right,  an'  all  you've  got  to  do 
is  to  sign  a  statement  to  that  effect  when  I  get  you  back 
to  Palm  Springs  Police  Station." 

I  throw  my  cigarette  stub  away,  an'  I  go  over  to  the 
side  table  an'  give  myself  a  drink.  I'm  pretty  pleased 
with  the  way  things  are  goin',  an'  I  figure  that  maybe  in 
a  coupla  hours  I'm  goin'  to  get  this  job  all  over  but  the 
shoutin'.  I  go  back  an'  sit  down.  I  light  myself  a 
fresh  cigarette. 

"Now  here's  the  way  it  goes,  Periera,"  I  say.  "When 
I  got  put  on  this  counterfeitin'  case  first  of  all  an*  went 
along  an'  saw  Langdon  Burdell  in  New  York,  I  figure 
that  he  wised  you  guys  up  that  the  Federal  authorities 
was  gettin'  busy  on  this  job.  But  he  didn't  only  wise 
you  up,  he  found  a  picture  of  me,  he  cut  it  out  of 
some  newspaper — this  is  the  picture  I  found  down  in  a 
garbage  can  in  the  store  room  behind  the  bar,  the  place 
where  Sager's  body  was  parked  in  the  ice  safe — an' 
when  he's  got  this  picture  out  of  the  newspaper  he  writes 
on  the  side  of  it  'This  is  the  guy'  an'  sends  it  along  to 
Fernandez  here  so  that  when  I  get  down  here  you'll 
know  who  I  am. 

"O.K.  Well  I  get  here.  I  blow  in  this  dump  thinkin' 
that  nobody  don't  know  me.  I  put  on  a  big  act  with 
Sagers,  so's  to  give  him  the  chance  to  slip  me  any  in- 
formation he's  got,  an'  you  guys  know  all  about  it. 
You  know  who  I  am  an'  you  see  through  the  act  I  put 
on,  so  you  guess  that  Sagers  is  workin'  with  me. 

213 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

"All  right.  That  night  after  the  place  is  closed  down 
— an'  you  get  it  closed  down  good  an'  early — Sagers 
comes  up  here  an'  tells  you  the  stuff  that  I've  told  him 
to  tell  you.  He  says  that  some  guy  in  Mexico  has  left 
him  some  dough  an'  he's  goin'  to  fire  himself  an'  scram 
for  Arispe.  He  says  good-by  to  you  guys.  He  goes 
outa  this  room.  He  walks  along  the  balcony  an'  starts 
goin'  down  the  steps  on  the  other  side,  an*  I  figure  that 
Fernandez  here  thinks  that  there  is  just  a  chance  that 
this  guy  knows  a  bit  too  much — for  all  I  know  Sagers 
may  have  found  somethin'  out  between  the  time  that  I 
left  this  dump  an'  the  time  that  I  found  his  body.  Maybe 
he  saw  that  hatch  or  somethin'. 

"Anyhow,  Fernandez  goes  to  the  door  an'  pulls  a 
gun  on  Sagers.  He  fires  over  the  dance  floor.  He  hits 
Sagers  in  the  leg.  Sagers  falls  down  the  stairs  an'  Fer- 
nandez has  another  coupla  shots,  but  he  still  ain't  killed 
Sagers — the  guy's  too  tough.  So  Fernandez  goes  along 
the  balcony,  down  the  steps  an'  puts  another  coupla 
shots  into  that  poor  guy  at  close  range,  so  damn  close 
that  there  was  powder  marks  on  his  clothes  an'  his 
skin  was  burned. 

"O.K.  Well  by  this  time  the  guy  decides  to  die,  an* 
then  Fernandez  leans  over  him  an'  starts  to  pull  him 
up.  He  pulls  him  up  by  his  silver  shirt  cord  an'  the 
tassel  falls  off  on  the  stair  where  I  found  it  afterwards. 
Then  this  big  guy  Fernandez  yanks  him  over  his  shoul- 
der, takes  him  along  an'  parks  him  in  the  ice  safe  in  a 
sack." 

I  stop.  I  look  at  Periera.  He  is  cryin'  like  hell,  the 
tears  are  runnin'  down  his  face. 

"Well,"  I  say,  "is  that  right  or  is  it  right?" 
214 


DUET      FOR      STIFFS 

He  can't  talk,  he  just  nods  his  head.  Fernandez  looks 
at  him. 

"Aw  shut  up,"  he  says.  "You  don't  know  what  you're 
talkin'  about.  I  suppose  you're  goin'  to  let  this  lousy 
dick  frame  you  into  sayin'  anything  he  wants  you  to 
say." 

"Look,  Fernandez,"  I  tell  him.  "I'd  hate  to  get  tough 
with  you.  I  bust  you  up  once  before,  but  I  promise  you 
one  thing,  if  I  get  my  hooks  on  you  again,  I'll  hurt  you 
plenty.  Just  keep  that  trap  of  yours  shut.  You  stay 
dead  in  this  act. 

"O.K.  Periera,"  I  say,  "so  Fernandez  shot  Sagers.  All 
right,  that's  that.  Now  you  tell  me  somethin',  Fernan- 
dez, since  you're  so  keen  on  talkin',  where  did  you  bury 
the  guy,  huh?" 

"Aw  nuts,"  says  Fernandez,  "I  ain't  sayin'  a  word. 
I  don't  know  what  you're  talkin'  about.  I  ain't  sayin' 
anythin'  until  I  got  a  lawyer." 

I  laugh. 

"The  way  you  guys  get  stuck  on  lawyers  drives  me 
crazy,"  I  say. 

By  this  time  Periera  can  talk.  He  cuts  in: 

"I  tell  you,  Sefior,  I  tell  you  the  trut'.  What  you  say 
ees  right.  Fernandez  here  he  keel  Sagers.  'E  theenk 
'e  know  too  much.  'E  bury  him  at  the  end  of  the  wall 
behind  the  garage.  I  see  eet  myself." 

I  look  at  Fernandez.  He  is  still  grinnin'.  He  is  tiltin' 
his  chair  back  an'  forwards.  He  is  tiltin'  it  so  far  back 
that  I  think  that  maybe  in  a  minute  he  will  fall  over, 
an*  then  so  quick  that  he  has  me  guessin'  he  pulls  a 
fast  one.  As  he  tilts  the  chair  back  he  grabs  at  the 
desk  drawer  in  front  of  him.  It  opens.  He  pulls  out  an 

215 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

automatic  that  is  inside  an'  He  puts  four  shots  into 
Periera.  Periera  lets  go  a  howl  an'  then  starts  whimper- 
in'.  He  is  shot  in  the  body  at  close  range  an'  he  don't 
feel  so  good. 

He  slumps  over  the  desk.  At  the  same  minute  I 
come  into  action  with  the  Luger.  I  let  Fernandez  have 
it.  I  give  him  two  right  through  the  pump. 

He  falls  off  the  chair  sideways.  I  go  an'  stand  over 
him.  Behind  me  I  can  hear  Periera  still  whimperin'. 
Fernandez  looks  up  at  me  an'  starts  talkin'.  There  is  a 
little  stream  of  blood  runnin'  outa  the  side  of  his  mouth. 
He  is  still  grinnin'.  He  looks  like  hell. 

"Nuts,  cop,"  he  says.  "You  ain't  goin'  to  fry  me. 
You  ain't  .  .  ." 

He  fades  out. 

Periera  is  lyin'  quiet.  I  reckon  he's  got  his  too.  When 
I  look  at  him  I  see  that  I  am  right.  His  eyes  are  glazin' 
over. 

I  look  around  at  Fernandez.  He  is  lyin'  sorta  twisted 
up  on  the  floor  with  his  eyes  starin'  up  at  the  ceilin'. 

An'  there  they  are — just  two  big  guys  who  thought 
they  could  beat  the  rap.  Two  mugs  who  thought  they 
could  kick  around  an'  do  what  they  wanted.  Fernandez, 
a  big,  cheap  walloper  with  nothin'  but  some  muscles 
an'  a  gun,  an'  Periera,  a  dirty  little  rat,  trailin'  along 
behind  him.  An'  they  always  finish  the  same  way. 
Either  they  get  it  like  these  two  have  got  it  or  they 
finish  up  in  the  chair,  scared  stiff,  talkin'  about  their 
mothers. 

These  guys  make  me  feel  sick. 

I  step  over  Periera  an'  grab  the  telephone.  I  call 
Metts.  Pretty  soon  he  comes  on  the  line. 

"Hey-hey,  Metts,"  I  tell  him.  "I  am  speakin'  to  you 
216 


DUET       FOR       STIFFS 

from  the  local  morgue — because  that's  what  it  looks  like. 
I  have  gotta  couple  stiffs  out  here  an'  I  figure  that  you 
might  collect  'em  before  mornin'." 

I  tell  him  what  has  happened.  He  ain't  surprised 
much.  He  says  that  he  figures  that  Fernandez  saved 
me  a  lotta  trouble  by  gunnin'  Periera  an'  gettin'  himself 
bumped  off. 

I  ask  him  how  things  are  at  his  end.  He  says  that 
everything  is  swell.  Henrietta  is  stickin'  around  talkin' 
things  over  with  Maloney  an'  tryin'  to  figure  out  just 
what  the  hell  I  am  playin'  at.  Maloney  is  so  sleepy  that 
he  can't  keep  his  eyes  open  an'  Metts  is  playin'  solitaire 
by  himself. 

"Swell,"  I  tell  him.  "Now  there's  just  one  little  thing 
that  you  can  do  for  me.  Get  one  of  your  boys  to  get 
around  an'  dig  up  a  casket  for  Sagers.  They  got  him 
buried  around  here  an'  I  would  like  to  collect  what's 
left  of  him  an'  put  him  some  place  that  is  proper.  If 
you  got  a  mortician  handy  just  get  him  goin'." 

"O.K.  Lemmy,"  he  says.  "I'll  say  you're  a  fast 
worker.  Listen,  just  how  long  have  we  gotta  stick  up 
around  here.  Don't  you  ever  want  any  sleep?" 

"Keep  goin',"  I  say.  "This  little  game  is  just  about 
endin'.  I  gotta  get  over  to  Henrietta's  place  an'  do  a 
little  bitta  gumshoein'  around  there,  an'  then  I  guess 
that  I  am  through  out  here.  I  figure  that  I'll  be  back 
at  your  place  inside  forty  minutes.  Say,  Metts,  just 
how  is  my  little  friend  Paulette?" 

"She's  all  right,"  he  says.  "She  is  just  about  as  happy 
as  a  cat  with  the  toothache.  I  went  an'  saw  her  down  at 
the  jail  half  an  hour  ago.  She  is  givin'  my  woman 
warden  a  helluva  lotta  trouble.  She  says  she  wants  a 
lawyer  an'  I've  fixed  one  for  her  first  thing  in  the 

217 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

mornin'.  Last  thing  I  heard  about  her  was  that  she 
had  turned  in  the  walkin'  up  an'  down  game  an'  was 
lyin'  down.  Maybe  she's  asleep." 

"Right,"  I  tell  him.  "Now  listen,  Metts,  an'  I  gotta 
hunch  that  this  is  goin'  to  be  the  last  thing  that  I'm 
goin'  to  ask  you  to  do  for  me.  In  half  an  hour's  time 
you  wake  Paulette  up.  Get  her  up  outa  that  jail  an' 
bring  her  up  to  the  sittin'  room  in  your  house.  If  she 
gets  funny  stick  some  steel  bracelets  on  her.  But  don't 
let  her  meet  Henrietta  or  Maloney  or  anybody  until  I 
get  around.  Then  when  I  get  back  we'll  sew  this  business 
up. 

"Okey  doke,"  he  says.  "I'll  have  it  all  set  for  you.  So 
long,  Lemmy." 

I  hang  up  the  receiver.  I  go  over  to  the  side  table  an' 
give  myself  a  drink.  Then  I  light  a  cigarette  an'  take  a 
deep  drag  on  it.  It  tastes  good  to  me. 

Then  I  straighten  things  up  a  bit.  I  get  hold  of 
Fernandez  an'  I  stick  him  back  in  the  chair,  an'  I  lay 
out  Periera  as  best  I  can.  I  pick  up  a  piece  of  adhesive 
tape  that  I  find  on  the  desk  an'  I  go  over  to  the  door  an' 
take  a  last  look  at  these  two  near-mobsters. 

Then  I  switch  off  the  light  and  scram  out.  I  lock  the 
door  behind  me  and  seal  it  in  two  or  three  places  with 
the  tape  to  keep  guys  out  before  Metts  gets  his  coroner 
to  work. 

Then  I  stand  on  the  balcony  an'  look  down  at  the 
dance  floor.  The  moonlight  is  comin'  through  makin' 
the  place  fulla  shadows. 

The  Hacienda  looks  bum.  It  looks  as  bum  as  any 
place  like  that  looks  when  the  floor  ain't  filled  with 
dancin'  guys  an'  the  band  ain't  playin' — when  there 
ain't  any  swell  dames  doin'  their  stuff. 

218 


DUET      FOR      STIFFS 

The  moon  makes  this  dump  look  sorta  tawdry. 

I  go  downstairs  an'  out  by  the  back  way,  an'  I  eas* 
along  to  the  place  where  I  have  left  the  car. 

It  is  a  swell  night,  but  I  am  feelin'  good.  As  I  start 
up  the  car  I  realise  that  I  am  plenty  tired.  I  step  on  it 
an'  make  for  the  little  rancho  where  Henrietta  lives. 

When  I  get  there  I  bang  on  the  door.  Nobody  answers 
so  I  figure  that  the  hired  girl  who  looks  after  Henrietta 
has  gone  off  some  place.  Maybe  she's  scared  at  bein' 
alone  in  the  dark. 

I  get  the  door  open  an'  I  go  up  to  Henrietta's  room. 
When  I  get  inside  I  can  sniff  the  perfume  she  uses — 
Carnation — I  always  did  like  Carnation.  Right  there 
in  front  of  me  is  the  row  of  shoes  with  here  an'  there  a 
silver  buckle  or  some  ornament  shinin'  in  the  moonlight. 
Slung  across  a  chair — just  like  it  was  before  is  Henri- 
etta's wrap. 

I  tellya  I  am  sorta  pleased  at  bein'  in  this  room.  I 
am  one  of  them  guys  who  believes  that  rooms  can  tell 
you  plenty  about  the  people  who  live  in  'em.  I  take  a 
pull  at  myself  because  I  figure  that  I  am  beginnin*  to 
get  sentimental  an'  bein'  that  way  ain't  a  long  suit  of 
mine — you're  tellin'  me! 

I  get  to  work.  I  start  casin'  this  room  good  an' 
proper.  I  go  over  every  inch  of  it  but  I  can't  find  what 
I'm  lookin'  for  until,  just  when  I  am  givin'  up  hope,  I 
find  it. 

I  open  a  clothes  cupboard  that  is  in  the  corner. 
I  find  a  leather  letter-case.  I  open  it  an'  inside  I 
find  a  bunch  of  letters.  I  go  through  'em  until 
I  find  one  written  by  Granworth  Aymes.  It  is 
a  year  old  letter  an'  it  looks  as  if  Henrietta  has 
kept  it  because  it  has  got  a  library  list  in  it — a 

219 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

list  of  books  that  Aymes  wanted  her  to  get  for  him. 

I  take  this  over  to  the  light  an'  I  read  it.  Then  I  put 
it  in  my  pocket  an'  I  sit  down  in  the  chair  that  has  got 
the  wrap  on  it  an'  I  do  a  little  thinkin'. 

After  a  bit  I  get  up  an'  I  scram.  I  lock  the  rancho 
door  an'  get  in  the  car  an'  start  back  for  Palm  Springs. 

I  have  got  this  job  in  the  bag.  Findin'  that  letter 
from  Aymes  has  just  about  sewed  it  up.  I  am  a  tough 
sorta  guy  but  I  have  a  feelin'  that  I  wanta  be  sick. 

Why?  Well,  I  have  handled  some  lousy  cases  in  my 
time,  an'  I  have  seen  some  sweet  set-ups.  I  been  bustin' 
around  playin'  against  the  mobs  ever  since  there  have 
been  mobsters  an'  there  ain't  much  for  me  to  learn. 

But  believe  it  or  not  this  job  is  the  lousiest,  dirtiest 
bit  of  mayhem  that's  ever  happened  my  way.  It's  so 
tough  that  it  would  make  a  hard-boiled  murderer  hand 
in  his  shootin'  irons  an'  look  around  for  the  local  prayer 
meetin'. 

I  woulda  liked  to  have  seen  Fernandez  fried.  That 
guy  oughta  got  the  chair,  an'  I'm  sorry  I  hadta  shoot 
him.  But  before  I'm  through  with  this  job,  three-four 
other  people  are  goin'  to  take  that  little  walk  that  runs 
from  the  death  house  to  the  chair  an*  when  they  take  it 
I'm  goin'  to  have  a  big  drink  an'  celebrate. 

I  start  singin'  Cactus  Lizzie.  It  sorta  takes  the  taste 
outa  my  mouth. 


220 


CHAPTER   XIV 

SHOW-DOWN 

I  LOOK  at  'em. 

I  am  in  the  chair  behind  Metts'  desk  in  his  sittin' 
room.  It  is  twenty  minutes  to  four.  Metts  is  in  a  big 
armchair  in  the  corner  smokin'  his  pipe  an'  lookin' 
as  if  this  sorta  meetin'  was  just  nothin'.  Henrietta  is 
sittin'  with  Maloney  on  a  big  sofa  on  the  right  of  the 
room,  an'  Paulette  is  in  a  chair  on  the  other  side  smilin' 
a  sorta  wise  little  smile  just  as  if  we  was  all  nuts  except 
her. 

Everything  is  very  quiet.  An'  the  room  is  kinda 
restful  because  Metts  has  turned  the  main  light  off  an' 
there  is  only  an  electric  standard  lit  in  the  corner  behind 
Paulette.  The  light  is  fallin'  on  her  face  an'  makin'  her 
look  sweller  than  ever. 

I  tell  you  dames  are  funny  things.  Take  a  look  at 
this  Paulette.  Here  she  is,  a  swell  dame  with  a  swell 
figure,  good  looks,  poise  an'  personality,  but  she  can't 
play  along  like  an  ordinary  dame.  She  has  to  go  around 
raisin'  hells  bells. 

I  often  wonder  what  it  is  that  starts  a  dame  off  like 
this.  I  wonder  what  bug  gets  into  'em  an'  turns  'em 
into  trouble-starters,  because  I  never  yet  knew  a  crook 
or  a  bitta  dirty  work  that  some  dame  wasn't  at  the  bot- 
tom of,  an'  I  guess  the  French  guy  who  said  "cherchez 
la  femme"  knew  his  onions.  An'  I  bet  every  case  I  have 
ever  handled  has  boiled  down  in  the  long  run  to 

221 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

"cherchez  la  femme."  But  maybe  that's  what  makes  life 
so  interestin'. 

I  look  at  'em  all  an'  I  grin. 

"Well,  people,"  I  say,  "here  is  what  they  call  the  end 
of  the  story.  I  guess  I  am  bein'  a  bit  irregular  in  havin' 
this  meetin'  right  now,  an'  without  havin'  Paulette's 
lawyer  around.  But  you  don't  have  to  worry,  Paulette, 
I  ain't  goin'  to  ask  you  any  questions  an'  I  ain't  goin'  to 
ask  you  for  any  statement.  What  you  are  goin'  to  do  or 
what  you  ain't  goin'  to  do  is  just  up  to  you." 

I  look  over  at  Henrietta. 

"Honey,"  I  tell  her.  "You  have  had  the  worst  sorta 
deal.  I  figure  that  I  have  had  to  make  things  tough 
for  you,  but  the  way  I  played  it  was  the  only  way  that 
it  woulda  worked.  The  day  I  had  you  down  here  at 
the  Police  Station  an'  grilled  you  about  the  clothes 
you  was  wearin'  that  night  when  you  went  to  New 
York  from  Connecticut,  was  an  act.  It  was  an  act  that 
I  put  on  for  the  benefit  of  Fernandez  an'  Periera.  I  was 
goin'  to  Mexico  an'  I  had  to  do  somethin'  that  was 
goin'  to  make  'em  think  that  the  case  was  all  closed, 
that  you  was  the  woman  I  was  goin'  to  pinch  for  killin' 
Aymes. 

"The  same  sorta  thing  had  to  happen  earlier  tonight, 
when  I  pinched  you  for  Aymes'  murder.  I  hadta  make 
them  two  guys  believe  that  I  had  the  case  complete 
against  you,  an'  that  I  was  goin'  to  take  them  to  New 
York  as  witnesses.  I  did  this  because  I  knew  that  if  they 
knew  they  hadta  leave  the  Hacienda  in  the  mornin'  the 
first  thing  they  would  do  would  be  to  clean  up  the 
counterfeitin'  plant.  I  knew  that  plant  was  around 
there  somewhere  but  I  just  hadta  make  'em  show  me 
where  it  was  an'  that  was  the  way  I  picked  to  do  it. 

222 


SHOW-DOWN 

I'm  sorry,  lady,  but  by  the  time  I'm  through  I  reckon 
you'll  understand." 

Henrietta  gives  me  a  little  smile. 

"It's  all  right,  Lemmy,"  she  says.  "I'm  sorry  I  was 
rude.  I  might  have  guessed  that  you  were  much  too 
clever  to  suspect  me  of  murder." 

"Swell,"  I  tell  her.  "Well,  people,  I  guess  I'm  goin' 
to  do  a  lotta  talkin',  an'  I  reckon  I  want  you  to  listen 
damn  carefully  to  what  I'm  sayin'.  Especially  you, 
Paulette,  because  you  gotta  realize  that  this  an'  that  are 
goin'  to  make  one  helluva  difference  to  you.  I  told 
you  just  now  that  this  meetin'  is  pretty  well  out  of 
order  from  a  legal  angle;  but  I'm  havin'  it  for  your 
benefit.  When  you  hear  what  I  gotta  say  you  can  go 
back  to  the  can  an'  think  it  over,  an'  you  can  also  think 
over  just  what  you're  gonna  tell  that  lawyer  of  yours 
in  the  mornin'. 

"O.K.  Here  we  go:  Fernandez  an'  Periera  are  dead. 
Periera  squealed  on  Fernandez  an'  Fernandez  shot  him. 
I  croaked  Fernandez  an'  that's  that.  Both  these  guys 
was  tied  up  with  the  Granworth  Aymes  counterfeitin' 
an'  the  guy  who  was  behind  the  counterfeitin'  an' 
responsible  for  it  was  Granworth  Aymes. 

"Granworth  Aymes  had  gotta  great  idea.  He  was 
supposed  to  be  a  gambler  playin'  the  stock  market. 
Well  he  did — sometimes.  When  things  was  good  O.K., 
an'  when  they  wasn't,  well  he  figured  that  he  could 
keep  goin'  by  counterfeitin'.  This  Hacienda  Altmira — 
the  place  that  he  built  an'  mortgaged  over  to  Periera 
— was  the  place  where  the  phoney  stuff  was  made  an' 
was  it  a  good  scheme?  He  started  off  by  gettin'  Periera 
to  make  phoney  money  because  it  was  easy  to  get  it 
inta  circulation  up  in  the  card  room.  People  who  have 

223 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

drunk  plenty  ain't  liable  to  examine  the  bills  they  won 
or  got  in  change,  an'  most  of  the  guys  who  used  to 
play  at  the  Hacienda  Altmira  was  birds  of  passage.  If 
somebody  come  along  who  was  livin*  in  Palm  Springs 
I  reckon  they'd  lay  off  handin'  him  any  phoney  dough. 
It  was  when  they  got  a  mug  that  they  issued  him  out 
this  fake  money. 

"You  remember,  Metts,  you  told  me  the  first  night 
I  was  here  that  you  found  some  guy  who'd  been  banged 
over  the  head  out  on  the  desert  not  far  from  the 
Hacienda?  Remember  you  told  me  that  you  thought 
that  this  guy  had  got  his  up  in  the  card  room.  Well,  I 
guess  you  was  right.  I  figure  this  was  one  of  the  few 
guys  who'd  been  given  some  phoney  dough  an'  made 
a  song  an'  dance  about  it.  So  they  croaked  him.  Alto- 
gether this  idea  of  usin'  the  Hacienda  as  a  place  for 
workin  off  this  counterfeit  on  people  was  swell.  They 
got  away  with  it  easy. 

"It  wasn't  until  afterwards  that  they  started  to  make 
phoney  stock  an'  bond  certificates  an'  I'll  tell  you  why 
they  done  this  later  on. 

"This  mob  was  well  organized.  Aymes  was  the  head 
of  it  an"  Langdon  Burdell,  the  butler  at  the  apartment, 
Fernandez  the  chauffeur  an  Marie  Dubuinet  the  maid, 
was  all  in  it.  Periera  was  responsible  for  runnin'  the 
Hacienda  an'  makin'  the  phoney  stuff.  I  reckon  they 
been  gettin'  away  with  this  game  for  a  helluva  time. 

"O.K.  Well  now  I'm  goin'  to  tell  you  why  they 
started  makin'  phoney  stock  an'  bond  certificates  an' 
transfers,  an'  I'm  goin'  to  tell  you  why  they  made  that 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars  worth  of  registered  U.S. 
Federal  bonds,  the  stuff  that  was  planted  on  Henrietta 

224 


SHOW-DOWN 

here.  It's  a  swell  story  an'  the  dame  responsible  for  it  is 
sittin'  right  here  with  us  now." 

I  grin  over  at  Paulette.  She  looks  back  at  me  an'  gives 
me  a  horse  laugh.  She  is  still  fightin'  fit  an'  don't  give 
a  damn  for  anything. 

"I  gotta  apologize  to  you  too,  Paulette,"  I  tell  her. 
"I  gotta  apologize  to  you  for  bringin'  you  back  here  on 
a  charge  of  killin'  Granworth  Aymes.  You  didn't  kill 
him,  but  just  at  the  time  it  looked  like  the  easiest  thing 
for  me  to  do.  Right  now  you  are  just  bein'  held  on  a 
charge  of  accessory  to  counterfeitin',  but  I  don't  want 
you  to  get  too  pleased  with  yourself.  Just  wait  nice  an' 
patient  till  I  get  finished,  an'  then  you  can  laugh  as 
much  as  you  like. 

"All  right,  well  about  a  year  ago  Granworth  meets 
Paulette  an'  he  falls  for  her  an'  she  falls  for  him.  I 
guess  that  he  was  a  weak,  silly  sorta  cuss  an'  the  kinda 
guy  who  would  fall  for  a  swell  dame  with  a  strong 
personality  like  this  Paulette.  These  two  play  around 
together  an'  Paulette  gets  to  know  about  the  money 
counterfeitin'  business  an'  she  thinks  the  idea  is  swell. 

"An'  then  she  gets  a  helluva  idea.  You  gotta  realize 
that  she  has  gotta  husband  an'  this  husband  is  in  a 
pretty  bad  way.  He  has  got  consumption  bad  an'  he 
can't  get  around  much.  He  don't  get  inta  New  York 
an'  he  don't  suspect  what  is  goin'  on  between  his  wife 
an'  Granworth. 

"But  it  looks  as  if  he  hasn't  got  very  long  to  live,  an' 
Paulette  don't  wanta  wait  until  he's  dead  to  get  her 
hooks  on  the  money  he  has  got.  So  she  has  a  helluva 
idea.  She  gets  the  very  swell  idea  of  gettin'  Rudy  Benito 
to  do  his  investin'  through  Granworth  Aymes,  an'  she 

225 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

suggests  to  Granworth  that  it  would  be  one  swell  idea  if 
all  the  stocks  an'  bonds  that  he  is  supposed  to  buy  for 
Rudy  could  be  made  out  here  at  the  Hacienda.  In  other 
words  she  an'  Granworth  stick  to  the  money  an'  issue 
Rudy  counterfeit  stocks  an'  bonds. 

"Rudy  ain't  goin'  to  get  wise  because  Paulette  is  bein' 
the  lovin'  wife  who  is  lookin'  after  his  business  affairs — 
got  me?  She  will  be  the  person  who  handles  the  certifi- 
cates an'  share  documents  an'  Rudy  is  too  sick  to 
examine  the  stuff  through  a  magnifyin'  glass  an'  any- 
how he  trusts  his  wife. 

"All  of  which  goes  to  show  you  just  how  lousy  a 
dame  can  be  if  she  wants  to  be.  I  bet  most  women 
whose  husbands  were  sick  an'  dyin'  woulda  been  glad 
to  have  stuck  around  an'  given  him  a  hand.  But  Paul- 
ette ain't  like  this.  This  lady  is  the  real  tough  guy — an' 
is  she  tough? 

"So  the  game  works  well  an'  they  get  away  with  it. 
In  a  few  months  they  have  cleaned  Rudy  out,  an'  all  he 
has  got  is  a  bunch  of  phoney  certificates. 

"Okey  doke.  Everything  is  goin'  hunky  dory  when 
something  happens.  One  day — a  day  when  I  figure  that 
Paulette  is  away  at  New  York  Rudy  gets  in  a  specialist 
an'  gets  himself  examined  again.  The  specialist  tells 
Rudy  that  he's  pretty  bad,  but  that  he  will  last  longer 
if  he  gets  down  to  a  good  dry  climate  like  Arizona  or 
Mexico.  Rudy  figures  to  do  this  an'  thinks  that  he'll 
take  a  look  at  his  finances  an'  things,  an'  see  how  he  is 
goin'.  So  he  probably  goes  an*  gets  some  of  the  stocks 
an'  bonds  that  are  in  Paulette's  safe  an'  maybe  he  gets 
around  to  some  local  broker  just  to  see  what  the  stuff 
is  worth  an'  to  see  how  quickly  he  can  realise  on  it. 
Can  you  imagine  what  a  helluva  shock  this  Rudy 

226 


SHOW-DOWN 

Benito  gets  when  he  finds  out  that  the  whole  damn  lot 
is  phoney,  that  it  is  not  worth  the  paper  it's  printed 
on? 

"Can  you  imagine  how  the  poor  guy  felt?  When 
Paulette  gets  back  he  lets  her  have  it.  He  asks  her  what 
the  hell  has  been  goin'  on. 

"So  what  does  she  say?  She  can't  tell  him  that  she 
has  been  in  on  this  job  from  the  first.  She  has  to  make 
out  that  Granworth  has  done  'em  both  in  the  eye.  She 
tells  Rudy  that  he  needn't  worry  because  Granworth 
has  just  made  a  bundle  of  dough  on  the  stock  market 
— which  is  a  fact — an'  that  they  will  make  him  cough 
it  up  or  else  they  will  go  to  the  police. 

"But  is  she  annoyed  with  Rudy?  You  bet  in  her  heart 
she  hates  him  like  hell.  She  didn't  like  him  in  the  first 
place  because  he  was  dyin'.  She  didn't  like  him  in  the 
second  place  because  she  had  been  twicin'  him,  an'  some- 
times if  she  ever  thought  about  herself  she  must  have 
figured  that  she  was  pretty  lousy.  But  when  this  poor 
sick  guy  gets  enough  intelligence  to  know  that  he  is 
bein'  done  left,  right  an'  center,  then  I  reckon  she  does 
get  burned  up.  After  this  she  hates  this  guy  like  hell. 

"Directly  she  gets  the  chance  she  gets  on  the  telephone 
to  Granworth  an'  tells  him  that  Rudy  is  wise  to  the 
swindle  an'  that  they  will  have  to  keep  this  guy  quiet  by 
payin'  him  back  the  dough. 

"Granworth  says  O.K.  but  believe  me  he  ain't  so 
pleased  an'  I'll  tell  you  why.  He  has  just  made  two 
hundred  grand  legitimately  on  the  stock  market.  He 
figures  that  he  is  goin'  to  give  up  this  counterfeitin' 
business  an'  go  straight.  Also  he  is  beginnin'  to  get 
tired  of  Paulette.  He  has  gone  so  far  as  to  make  over 
\}\f  two  hundred  grand  to  his  wife  Henrietta  an'  he 

227 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

has  also  taken  out  a  big  insurance.  He  don't  feel  so 
pleased  at  the  idea  of  partin'  with  the  dough  back  to 
Rudy,  but  he  tells  Paulette  O.K.  he  will  pay  up  an'  that 
the  great  thing  to  do  is  to  keep  this  Rudy  Benito  quiet. 

"But  Rudy  is  beginnin'  to  get  suspicious.  He  figures 
that  Paulette  musta  known  something  about  what  was 
goin'  on.  He  makes  some  inquiries  an'  he  finds  out  that 
Paulette  has  been  gettin'  around  with  Granworth 
Aymes — that  their  names  have  been  coupled  together. 

"The  poor  guy  don't  know  what  to  do.  He  knows 
that  Granworth  is  a  crook  an'  he  is  beginnin'  to  suspect 
his  own  wife,  so  he  gets  down  an'  he  writes  an  unsigned 
letter  to  Henrietta.  He  tells  her  that  her  husband  is 
playin'  around  with  some  woman,  but  he  don't  say  who. 
He  writes  this  letter  so  that  Henrietta  will  get  after 
Granworth  an'  bust  up  the  business  between  him  an' 
Paulette. 

"Now  we  are  comin'  close  to  the  time  when  the  works 
start  shootin'  properly.  Henrietta  writes  some  letters 
to  Granworth  from  Hartford,  Connecticut,  where  she 
is  stayin',  accusin'  him  of  gettin'  around  with  a  woman, 
an'  this  puts  Granworth  in  a  jam.  He  has  got  to  get 
his  hooks  on  the  two  hundred  thousand  registered  Fed- 
eral bonds  that  are  in  the  safe  deposit  in  Henrietta's  name 
so  as  to  give  'em  to  Rudy  to  keep  him  quiet,  an'  he  has 
gotta  do  this  without  Henrietta  knowin'  anythin'  about 
it.  So  what  does  he  do?  He  gets  goin'  directly  he  gets 
the  first  letter  from  Henrietta.  He  gets  Periera  to  man- 
ufacture counterfeit  Federal  bonds  an*  he  sticks  'em  in 
the  safe  deposit  in  the  place  of  the  real  ones.  This  way 
he  figures  he  is  safe.  The  phoney  bonds  will  keep  Hen- 
rietta quiet  an'  he  can  hand  the  real  ones  over  to  Rudy 

228 


SHOW-DOWN 

an'  keep  him  quiet.  Paulette  has  told  him  that  Rudy 
ain't  goin'  to  last  long  an'  he  figures  that  when  he  dies 
he  can  get  the  real  bonds  back  again. 

"He  tells  Paulette  about  all  this  an'  she  thinks  that  it 
is  a  swell  idea  an'  that  if  they  play  it  carefully  they  can 
get  away  with  it.  But  they  don't  figure  on  one  thing. 
They  forget  Rudy  Benito.  This  guy  is  suspicious  an'  not 
only  is  he  suspectin'  Granworth  but  now  he  is  also  sus- 
pectin'  Paulette. 

"So  now  we  come  to  the  big  day.  We  come  to  the 
12th  January — the  day  that  Granworth  Aymes  goes 
over  the  edge  of  Cotton's  Wharf.  Now  I  reckon  that 
this  day  is  a  pretty  interestin'  sorta  day.  In  fact  I  will 
go  as  far  as  to  say  that  durin'  a  long  experience  of  crooks 
an'  murderers  an'  what  have  you  I  ain't  ever  heard  of  a 
day  that  was  just  like  this  12th  of  January. 

"It  is  a  day  that  all  you  guys  are  goin'  to  remember 
all  your  lives,  an'  personally  speakin'  I  guess  I  am  goin' 
to  remember  it  too. 

"Now  get  the  set-up.  This  12th  of  January  is  the  day 
that  Paulette  has  told  Rudy  that  she  is  goin'  inta  New 
York  to  make  the  wicked  Granworth  pay  up  the  two 
hundred  thousand  grand  that  he  has  swindled  Rudy 
an'  her  out  of.  Rudy  listens  to  all  this  stuff  with  his 
tongue  in  his  cheek.  He  is  gettin'  pretty  wise  to  Paul- 
ette an'  he  figures  that  when  she  goes  to  see  Granworth 
he  is  goin'  to  string  along  too,  but  he  don't  tell  her. 

"O.K.  Well  Granworth  ain't  feelin'  so  pleased  with 
the  12th  of  January  either.  He  knows  that  he  has  gotta 
hand  over  the  two  hundred  thousand  in  bonds  to 
Paulette  an'  he  has  also  received  the  third  note  from 
Henrietta  who  has  come  back  to  New  York  an'  in  this 

229 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

note  she  tells  him  that  she  is  goin'  to  see  him  an'  have  a 
show-down  about  this  woman  he  is  gettin'  around 
with." 

I  look  around  at  'em.  Metts  is  sittin'  holdin'  his  pipe 
in  his  hand,  lookin'  at  me  as  if  he  was  hypnotised.  Hen- 
rietta is  starin'  straight  in  front  of  her.  Poor  kid  I 
guess  she  ain't  feelin'  so  good  at  hearin'  all  this  stuff 
about  Granworth.  Across  on  the  other  side  of  the  room 
Paulette  is  lyin'  back  on  her  chair  keepin'  her  eyes  on 
me.  There  is  a  sorta  half-smile  playin'  around  her 
mouth.  She  sits  there,  quite  still,  not  movin'  a  muscle, 
just  like  she  was  petrified. 

"O.K.,"  I  go  on.  "So  here  we  are  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  12th  of  January.  Paulette  comes  to  New  York 
for  the  express  purpose  of  seein'  Granworth  Aymes  an' 
gettin'  the  two  hundred  grand  in  Federal  bonds  from 
him,  an'  after  her,  keepin'  well  under  cover,  comes 
the  poor  sick  guy,  Rudy  Benito,  coughin'  his  way  along, 
with  his  guts  fulla  hatred  for  his  wife  who  has  sold 
him  out  for  the  man  who  has  helped  her  to  do  it. 

"Rudy  has  got  his  own  scheme.  I  figure  that  in  the 
afternoon  he  takes  himself  a  room  at  some  little  quiet 
hotel  and  rests  himself.  He  is  preparin'  for  the  big  act 
he  is  goin'  to  put  on  with  Granworth.  Just  for  the 
minute  I'm  goin'  to  leave  him  there. 

"In  the  afternoon  Paulette  goes  along  an'  sees  Gran- 
worth in  his  office.  Maybe  Langdon  Burdell  is  there 
an'  maybe  he  ain't,  but  anyhow  Paulette  spills  the  beans 
to  Granworth.  She  tells  him  that  the  only  way  of  keep- 
in'  Rudy  quiet  is  to  pay  back  the  dough.  She  don't 
know  that  Rudy  suspects  her  an'  she  tells  Granworth 
that  the  guy  is  goin'  to  die  soon  anyway  an'  that  then 
they  can  join  up  again. 

230 


SHOW-DOWN 

"Granworth  says  O.K.  He  gives  her  the  two  hundred 
grand  in  Federal  bonds  an'  he  tells  her  about  the  fast 
one  he  has  pulled  on  his  wife,  Henrietta.  He  tells  her 
how  he  has  got  Periera  out  here  at  the  Hacienda  to 
fake  up  counterfeit  Federal  bonds  to  replace  the  real  ones 
that  he  has  just  handed  over  to  Paulette.  I  reckon  that 
they  think  that  this  is  one  helluva  joke.  Maybe  they  sit 
there  an'  laugh  their  heads  off. 

"Well,  after  they  have  enjoyed  this  big  joke,  Gran- 
worth  tells  Paulette  his  big  news.  He  tells  her  that 
his  wife  Henrietta  is  in  New  York  an'  that  he  has 
just  received  a  note  from  her  to  the  effect  that  she 
is  goin'  to  see  him  that  evenin'  an'  have  a  show- 
down about  this  woman  he  is  supposed  to  be 
runnin'  around  with.  Paulette  is  interested  like 
hell.  You  bet  she  is.  She  is  rather  enjoyin'  the  joke. 
She  asks  Granworth  what  he  thinks  Henrietta  will 
do.  He  tells  her  that  he  figures  that  Henrietta  will 
say  that  unless  he  gives  up  this  dame  he  is  gettin' 
around  with  she  will  divorce  him.  He  says  that  she 
will  be  all  the  more  inclined  to  take  one  helluva  strong 
line  because  she  thinks  that  she  has  got  the  two  hun- 
dred grand  in  Federal  bonds  that  was  in  the  safe  de- 
posit. She  don't  know  that  they  have  been  switched 
an'  that  they  are.  fake. 

"Then  Granworth  an'  Paulette  have  another  helluva 
big  laugh. 

"Paulette  says  O.K.  but  she  is  mighty  curious  to 
know  about  this  interview  that  is  comin'  along  with 
Henrietta  an'  she  would  like  to  stick  around  an'  hear 
what  happens  an'  Granworth  says  O.K.,  that  when  he  is 
through  with  Henrietta  he  will  come  back  to  his  office 
an'  if  she  will  be  waitin'  there  for  him  about  eight- 

231 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

thirty  he  will  tell  her  the  works  an'  they  can  have 
another  big  laugh. 

"Paulette  says  O.K.  an'  she  goes  back  to  her  hotel 
an'  probably  gives  herself  a  facial  an'  a  big  drink.  She 
thinks  that  she  is  doin'  swell. 

"All  this  time  the  poor  sap  Rudy  is  restin'  up  at  his 
hotel,  tryin'  to  get  himself  up  enough  strength  to  have 
the  big  show-down  with  Granworth.  But  maybe  he 
can't  make  it.  Maybe  he  don't  feel  so  good,  so  he  just 
sticks  around  waitin'  an'  waitin'  until  he  feels  good 
enough  to  make  it,  an'  if  you  people  have  ever  known 
a  guy  who's  got  consumption  real  bad  you'll  know 
what  I  mean  an'  you'll  feel  for  Rudy. 

"An'  Granworth  just  sits  around  in  his  office  waitin' 
for  Henrietta  to  telephone. 

"In  the  late  afternoon  she  gets  on  the  wire.  She  tells 
Granworth  that  she  has  just  gotta  see  him  an'  she  asks 
him  where.  He  says  at  some  little  down  town  cafe  an' 
when  the  time  comes  Henrietta  goes  along,  an'  he  drives 
up  in  his  car  an'  they  have  a  big  talk. 

"Granworth  has  had  a  coupla  drinks  an'  is  fairly 
high  an'  fulla  courage.  He  tells  Henrietta  he  don't 
give  a  damn  for  her  an'  that  she  can  do  what  she  likes. 
When  she  says  that  she  will  divorce  him  if  he  don't 
give  up  this  other  dame,  he  says  O.K.  an'  if  she  does  he 
won't  pay  her  any  alimony,  that  he  will  leave  the  coun- 
try first.  Then  she  says  she  don't  give  a  hoot  about 
the  alimony  because  she  has  got  the  Federal  bonds  an* 
then  he  just  laughs  like  hell,  because  he  is  thinkin'  what 
a  funny  story  he  will  have  to  tell  Paulette  when  he  goes 
back  to  the  office  an'  meets  up  with  her  again." 

I  stop  talkin'  because  there  is  a  knock  at  the  door. 
Metts  gets  up  an'  goes  across.  He  talks  to  the  cop  at 

232 


SHOW-DOWN 

the  door  an'  then  he  comes  back  across  the  room  to  me. 
He  has  got  two  telegrams  in  his  hands  an'  he  gives 
'em  to  me.  I  bust  'em  open  an'  read  'em.  One  is  from 
the  "G"  office  in  New  York  an'  the  other  is  from  a 
Captain  of  Mexican  Police  Rurales  in  the  Zoni  district 
to  Mexican  Police  Headquarters  at  Mexicali,  who  have 
forwarded  it  on  to  me  from  there. 

They  both  look  pretty  good  to  me. 

I  put  'em  down  on  the  desk  in  front  of  me  an*  I  go 
on. 

"Henrietta  can't  say  anything  else,"  I  tell  'em.  "He 
is  drunk  an'  she  knows  it.  She  gets  up  an'  she  leaves, 
an*  she  goes  back  to  the  depot  an'  takes  the  first  train 
back  to  Hartford,  Connecticut.  We  know  she  does  this 
because  two  guys  in  the  railway  service,  a  ticket  clerk 
an'  a  train  attendant,  have  identified  her  picture  as 
bein'  on  the  train  that  left  at  twenty  minutes  to  nine. 

"O.K.  Well,  returnin'  to  Granworth.  He  goes  back 
to  his  car  an'  he  starts  it  up  an'  he  drives  back  to  his 
office.  By  now  it  is  about  eight-thirty  an*  he  is  lookin' 
forward  to  havin'  a  big  laugh  with  Paulette  about  his 
talk  with  Henrietta  an'  maybe  he  is  figuring  on  takin' 
her  some  place  to  dinner. 

"Right.  Granworth  goes  up  to  his  office  an*  there 
he  finds  two  people  waitin'  for  him.  He  finds  Langdon 
Burdell  an'  Paulette.  When  he  goes  in  the  door  of  the 
outer  office  he  is  so  high  that  he  forgets  to  close  it  behind 
him.  If  he  had  I  mighta  not  been  tellin'  this  story. 

"Anyhow  he  goes  inta  the  inner  office  an'  he  gives 
himself  another  drink  an'  he  starts  laughin'  his  head 
off.  Then  he  starts  tellin'  Paulette  and  Burdell  about 
his  interview  with  Henrietta.  He  tells  these  two  that 
the  poor  sap  Henrietta  thinks  that  she  has  got  two 

233 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

hundred  grand  in  Federal  bonds  an'  that  the  poor  mutt 
is  threatenin'  him  with  divorce  thinkin'  that  she  has 
got  plenty  money  an'  that  all  the  time  all  she  has  got  is 
a  bunch  of  counterfeit  paper. 

"They  all  start  laughin'  like  hell.  They  all  think 
that  it  is  one  helluva  joke  an'  just  when  they  are  scream- 
in'  their  heads  off  the  door  opens  an'  in  walks  Rudy 
Benito,  and  I  reckon  this  guy  has  been  standin'  in  the 
outer  office  an'  has  heard  them  tellin'  the  whole  bag  of 
tricks. 

"Rudy  starts  in.  He  tells  'em  all  about  it.  He  tells 
Granworth  what  a  cheap  four-flushin'  devil  he  is  an' 
then  he  turns  around  to  Paulette  an'  tells  her  what  he 
thinks  about  her.  He  tells  her  just  what  he  thinks 
about  a  lousy  daughter  of  hell  who  would  help  to 
swindle  her  dyin*  husband  an'  who  could  sit  down  an' 
laugh  about  it. 

"He  stands  there  pointin'  his  finger  at  'em.  An'  then 
he  tells  'em  something  else. 

"He  says  that  the  fact  that  Granworth  is  prepared 
to  return  the  money  don't  matter  a  damn  to  him.  He 
says  that  he  is  goin'  to  the  police.  He  says  that  he  is 
goin'  to  bust  the  whole  works  an'  hold  'em  both  up 
for  all  the  world  to  see  what  lousy  scum  they  are.  He 
says  that  if  it's  the  last  thing  he  ever  does  he's  goin'  to 
put  'em  behind  the  bars. 

"An'  then  what!  Well,  I'll  tell  you.  Paulette  here 
is  pretty  burned  up.  She  is  furious  at  bein'  caught 
out  like  this.  Right  by  where  she  is  sittin'  on  the  edge 
of  Granworth  Aymes'  desk  is  a  big  paper  weight — the 
figure  of  a  boxer,  the  same  one  that's  there  now.  She 
gets  up  an'  she  grabs  it.  She  smashes  it  down  on  Rudy's 
skull  an'  she  kills  him.  He  lies  there  dyin',  a  poor  sick 

234 


SHOW-DOWN 

guy  that  never  had  a  chance,  an'  there,  sittin'  in  that 
chair  lookin'  at  us,  is  the  lousy  dame  who  did  it!" 

Paulette  cracks.  She  jumps  up.  She  rushes  across 
to  the  desk  an'  she  leans  across  it.  Her  eyes  are  blazin* 
an'  she  is  so  worked  up  she  can  hardly  talk. 

"I  never  did  it,"  she  yells.  "I  tell  you  I  never  did  it. 
It's  all  true  but  the  killing.  I  didn't  do  that.  Granworth 
did  it.  He  killed  Rudy.  I  tell  you  he  killed  him  with 
the  paper  weight." 

She  falls  on  the  floor  in  front  of  the  desk.  She  lies 
there  writhin'.  I  go  around  an'  take  a  look  at  her. 

"Thanks  a  lot,  Paulette,"  I  tell  her.  "Thank  you  for 
the  tip.  That's  just  what  I  wanted  to  know." 


235 


CHAPTER   XV 

FADE  OUT  FOR  CROOKS 

I  WALK,  around  the  desk  an'  I  stand  there  lookin'  at 
her  as  she  is  lyin'  on  the  floor.  I  figure  she  is  goin'  to 
give  herself  a  double  dose  of  hysteria  in  a  minute. 

I  bend  down  an'  pick  her  up.  I  carry  her  over  to  the 
chair  an'  while  I  am  doin'  it  she  tries — even  fixed  the 
way  she  is — to  pull  something.  While  she  is  in  my 
arms  she  sorta  turns  her  head  an'  looks  at  me  an'  she 
puts  everything  inta  that  look  that  she's  got.  I  guess 
that  if  that  dame  coulda  cut  off  ten  years  of  her  life  if 
she  was  able  to  kill  me  with  a  look  she  woulda  done  it. 
It  was  poison  I'm  tellin'  you. 

I  throw  her  down  in  the  chair. 

"Take  it  nice  an*  calm,  Cleopatra,"  I  tell  her,  "be- 
cause gettin'  excited  or  raisin'  hell  around  here  is  goin' 
to  be  as  much  use  to  you  as  red  pepper  on  a  gumboil. 
Sweet  dame,  you  are  all  shot  to  hell,  you  are  washed  up 
like  a  dead  fish  in  a  waterspout.  From  now  on  you  are 
the  sample  that  got  lost  in  the  mail,  you  are  the  copy 
the  news  editor  spiked,  you  are  the  lady  who  got  stood- 
up  by  a  gumshoein'  Federal  dick  that  you  thought  was 
a  pushover.  You  make  me  sick.  Even  if  you  was  good 
I  wouldn't  like  you." 

She  goes  as  red  as  hell.  I  figure  talkin*  to  her  this 
way  has  stopped  her  hysterics  anyhow.  She  takes  a  pull 
at  herself. 

"You  cheap  heel,"  she  says.  "I  wish  I'd  shot  you 
when  I  had  the  chance.  I  wish  I'd  hurt  you  so  that  it 

236 


FADE      OUT 

took  you  a  year  to  die.    But  get  this.    Somebody  will 
get  you.  Somebody  will  get  you  for  this!" 

"Nope,  little  buttercup,"  I  tell  her.  "Somebody 
won't,  an*  if  you  keep  them  shell-like  ears  of  yours 
flappin'  an5  stop  thinkin'  of  new  things  to  call  me  you'll 
hear  just  why  'somebody'  won't.  Another  thing  I  ain't 
frightened  of  friends  of  yours,  little  dewdrop,  an* 
though  they  may  be  all  the  world  to  you,  to  me  they 
are  just  bad  smells.  An*  another  thing,  if  every  crook 
who  has  tried  to  iron  me  out  had  done  what  he  wanted 
I  would  be  so  full  of  holes  that  they  could  use  me  for  a 
nutmeg  grater. 

"Stay  quiet  an'  take  what's  comin'  to  you  like  a  lady." 

I  turn  around  to  Henrietta.  She  is  sittin'  up  starin'. 
She  is  tryin'  to  understand  just  where  she  is  breakin*. 
You  ain't  never  seen  a  dame  as  surprised  as  Henrietta. 

"But,  Lemmy,"  she  says.  "You  say  that  Granworth 
killed  Rudy  Benito.  Then  what  happened?  I  don't 
understand.  Did  Granworth  commit  suicide  after- 
wards?" 

"Take  it  easy,  honeybunch,"  I  tell  her.  "You  ain't 
heard  the  half  of  it  yet.  By  the  time  I'm  through  you'll 
begin  to  understand  just  what  a  lousy  heel  that  husband 
of  yours  was,  an  just  how  much  trouble  a  cheap  dame 
like  this  Paulette  here  can  start  if  she  feels  like  it. 

"O.K.  Well  let's  go  on  from  there.  There  is  poor 
Rudy  Benito  lyin'  on  the  floor  as  dead  as  last  month's 
prime  cuts.  Langdon  Burdell,  Granworth  an*  Paulette 
standin'  lookin'  at  each  other  an'  wonderin'  what  the 
hell  they  are  goin'  to  do  next,  an'  then  Paulette  gets 
another  swell  idea — an*  is  it  a  good  one?  I'm  tellin* 
you  that  it  was  such  a  good  one  that  they  nearly  got 
away  with  it. 

237 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

"She  remembers  that  Granworth  has  tried  to  commit 
suicide  two  years  before — the  time  when  he  drove  his 
car  over  the  wharf.  O.K.  Well,  nobody  much  knows 
about  Rudy.  He  ain't  known  in  New  York  an'  anyhow 
he  was  just  plannin'  to  scram  down  to  Mexico.  So 
nobody  is  goin'  to  miss  him.  So  she  suggests  to  Gran- 
worth  an'  Burdell  that  they  take  the  clothes  off  Rudy, 
put  Granworth's  clothes  on  him,  stick  him  in  the  car 
an'  drive  him  over  the  edge  of  the  wharf.  Everybody 
will  think  that  Granworth  has  committed  suicide,  an' 
Granworth  can  scram  off  with  Paulette  an'  clear  down 
to  Mexico  an'  pretend  that  he's  her  husband  Rudy. 

"The  only  thing  they  have  gotta  be  careful  about  is 
the  police  identification.  But  they  know  that  Henrietta 
has  gone  back  to  Hartford.  If  they  can  keep  her  outa 
New  York  till  Rudy's  body  is  buried  an'  if  Langdon 
Burdell  fixes  so  that  he  is  the  guy  who  identifies  Rudy's 
corpse  as  bein'  that  of  Granworth  then  everything  is 
hunky  dory.  Do  you  get  it? 

"Granworth  thinks  the  idea  is  a  jewel.  It  lets  him 
out.  All  he  has  gotta  do  is  to  scram  with  Paulette  an' 
get  outa  New  York  to  some  place  where  nobody  won't 
know  him  an'  he  is  as  safe  as  the  bank.  Also  he  gets 
rid  of  Henrietta  which  is  another  idea  he  likes,  an' 
anyhow  he  is  a  lousy  dog  who  will  do  anything  that 
Paulette  tells  him  to.  So  he  takes  his  clothes  off  an'  they 
put  them  on  Benito  who  is  about  the  same  size.  Then 
they  smash  Benito's  face  in  some  more;  then  Granworth 
writes  a  suicide  note  an'  they  put  it,  with  Granworth's 
wallet,  in  Benito's  pocket. 

"Then  they  have  a  meetin'  as  to  how  they  are  goin' 
to  get  the  body  down  to  the  wharf,  an'  Paulette  has 
another  big  idea.  She  says  that  she  will  get  in  the  car 

238 


FADE      OUT 

an'  drive  Benito's  body  down,  because  as  Granworth 
was  meetin'  his  wife  Henrietta  that  night,  if  anybody 
sees  her  they  will  think  it  is  Henrietta. 

"So  Granworth  an'  Burdell  pick  up  the  body  an* 
they  take  it  down  by  the  service  lift  at  the  back  of  the 
block.  Paulette  is  waitin'  there  in  the  car.  They  stick 
Benito  in  the  passenger  seat  an'  Paulette,  drivin'  round 
the  back  streets,  gets  down  to  Cotton's  Wharf.  Once 
there  she  gets  out,  leans  in  the  car,  puts  her  hand  down 
on  the  clutch  an'  pushes  the  gear  lever  in,  an'  steps  back 
an'  slams  the  door.  The  car  starts  off  an'  after  hittin* 
a  woodpile  goes  over  the  edge. 

"But  just  as  Paulette  is  scrammin'  off  she  sees  the 
night  watchman  Fargal.  She  goes  back  an'  tells  Gran- 
worth an'  Burdell,  an'  Burdell  says  that  don't  matter  a 
cuss  because  he  can  square  the  night  watchman  if  he 
has  seen  anything. 

"O.K.  Paulette  an'  Granworth  scram  off.  They  have 
got  the  two  hundred  grand  in  Federal  bonds  an'  before 
they  go  they  pay  off  Burdell  an'  leave  a  cut  for  Fer- 
nandez, the  maid  an'  the  butler. 

"When  they  get  down  to  Mexico  they  begin  to  feel 
better,  but  Paulette  still  thinks  that  there  is  a  chance 
of  Granworth  bein'  recognised  sometime.  So  she  gets 
another  swell  idea.  They  get  hold  of  the  doctor — Mad- 
rales — an'  they  pay  him  plenty  to  take  Granworth  into 
his  house  at  Zoni  an'  do  a  face  operation  on  him  that  is 
goin'  to  change  his  face  so  that  nobody  will  ever  know 
he  was  Granworth. 

"O.K.  Well  now  let's  go  back  to  Burdell.  Granworth 
an'  Paulette  have  scrammed  outa  it.  Early  next  mornin' 
he  gets  down  to  Cotton's  Wharf  an'  sees  the  watchman. 
He  gives  this  guy  a  thousand  bucks  to  keep  his  trap 

239 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

shut  about  havin'  seen  a  woman  gettin'  outa  the  car 
the  night  before.  The  watchman  says  O.K. 

"Then  the  police  get  the  car  up  an'  the  suicide  is 
reported.  Burdell  scrams  along  to  the  morgue  an* 
identifies  Benito's  body  as  bein'  that  of  Granworth 
Aymes.  In  the  pocket  is  the  suicide  note  in  Granworth's 
handwritin'.  The  police  accept  the  identification  an' 
the  verdict  is  suicide.  Ain't  it  natural?  Granworth  tried 
to  commit  suicide  two  years  before,  didn't  he?" 

I  move  over  an'  stand  with  my  back  to  Metts'  desk 
an'  look  around.  Paulette  is  huddled  up.  Her  face  has 
gone  gray.  Maloney  is  lookin'  at  me  with  his  eyes 
poppin'  an'  Henrietta  is  claspin'  an'  unclaspin'  her 
hands.  Metts  is  gettin'  so  worked  up  that  he  is  tryin' 
to  light  his  pipe  with  a  match  that's  gone  out.  I  go  on 
talkin': 

"Swell.  Everythin'  is  goin'  accordin'  to  plan.  Burdell 
is  wise.  He  waits  two  days  before  he  phones  through  to 
Henrietta  in  Connecticut  to  tell  her  that  Granworth  has 
committed  suicide.  He  does  this  so  as  to  give  time  for 
the  body  to  be  buried  before  she  can  see  it. 

"Then  he  tells  the  maid,  the  butler  an'  Fernandez 
not  to  say  anythin'  about  Henrietta  bein'  in  New  York 
that  night,  not  because  he  wants  to  keep  Henrietta  outa 
trouble  but  just  because  he  don't  want  anybody  knowin' 
anything  about  any  woman  bein'  around.  He  is  think- 
in'  of  Paulette. 

"Well,  the  whole  scheme  works  out  swell,  an'  if  they 
had  been  prepared  to  have  left  it  alone  there  everything 
woulda  been  all  right,  an'  we  none  of  us  woulda  known 
anything  about  it  now. 

"But  Burdell  ain't  satisfied.  He  ain't  satisfied  even 
although  he  is  runnin'  Granworth's  old  business  an' 

240 


FADE       OUT 

makin'  money.  One  day  he  is  kickin'  around  in  his 
office  an'  he  finds  two  things.  He  finds  first  the  insur- 
ance policy  that  Granworth  took  out  that  says  that  two 
hundred  thousand  dollars  will  be  paid  on  his  death 
providin'  he  ain't  committed  suicide,  an*  he  finds  the 
three  letters  from  Henrietta  that  Granworth  has  left  in 
his  desk,  the  letters  accusin'  him  of  gettin'  around  with 
some  other  woman,  the  third  one  sayin5  that  she  is 
comin'  to  New  York  to  have  a  show-down  with  him. 

"Then  this  Burdell  gets  an  idea.  He  gets  the  rottenest, 
lousiest  idea  that  a  guy  ever  got.  He  gets  the  idea  that  if 
it  can  be  proved  that  Granworth  Aymes  was  murdered 
by  his  wife  Henrietta  then  the  Insurance  Corporation  are 
goin'  to  pay.  The  money  will  go  to  the  Aymes  estate  an' 
the  Aymes  estate  is  mortgaged  to  Periera — so  the  Insur- 
ance money  will  go  to  Periera  because  the  Insurance 
Corporation  have  contracted  to  pay  on  anythin*  except 
suicide! 

"Have  you  got  it?  Was  it  a  swell  idea  or  was  it? 

"So  Burdell  gets  busy.  He  sends  Fernandez  out  to 
the  Hacienda  Altmira  to  wise  up  Periera  about  the  new 
scheme.  An'  after  this  he  waits  around  an'  persuades 
Henrietta  to  go  out  to  the  Hacienda  to  have  a  nice 
quiet  time.  She  is  glad  to  do  this  because  she  is  upset 
about  Granworth's  supposed  suicide.  She  even  thinks 
that  maybe  she  was  responsible  for  it  an'  that  if  she 
hadn't  been  so  tough  with  him  he  mighta  not  done  it. 

"O.K.  Then  Burdell  sticks  around  an'  waits.  I'll 
tell  you  why  he  waits.  He  knows  that  Henrietta  ain't 
got  very  much  money.  He  knows  that  when  that  is 
spent  she  is  goin'  to  start  usin'  the  two  hundred  thou- 
sand in  fake  Federal  bonds  that  she  has  got — the  ones 
they  switched  on  her,  an'  he  knows  that  directly  she 

241 


DAMES       DON     T       CARE 

tries  to  change  this  phoney  stuff  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment will  step  in  an'  start  investigatin'.  He  knows 
that  they  will  send  an  agent  to  him  to  ask  questions 
about  Granworth  an'  that  they  will  investigate  the 
circumstances  surroundin'  the  Aymes  suicide. 

"So  he  grabs  the  three  letters  from  Henrietta  outa 
the  desk  an'  he  sends  'em  down  to  Fernandez  an'  he 
tells  him  to  be  ready  to  plant  Jem  where  this  Federal 
agent  will  find  'em. 

"Sure  as  a  gun  it  comes  off.  I  get  assigned  to  the 
job  an'  I  go  to  New  York  an'  see  Burdell. 

"While  I  am  stayin'  there  he  sends  me  an  unsigned 
letter  sayin'  that  if  I  will  go  down  here  to  Palm  Springs 
I  will  find  some  letters  that  may  tell  me  a  lot. 

"I  fall  for  it  an'  I  come  down  here  an'  find  the  letters 
an'  I  begin  to  think  that  Henrietta  here  bumped  off 
Aymes,  that  he  didn't  commit  suicide  at  all. 

"Burdell  knows  that  I  will  probably  think  that  he 
has  written  this  letter,  an'  that  I  will  talk  to  him  about 
it  so  he  has  a  story  all  ready — a  story  that  makes  things 
look  even  worse  for  Henrietta.  He  tells  me  that  he  told 
the  others  to  say  that  she  wasn't  in  New  York  on  that 
night  just  so's  her  name  would  be  kept  outa  the  busi- 
ness. 

"But  like  all  the  other  crooks  these  guys  haveta  make 
mistakes.  An'  that  is  a  thing  I  am  always  waitin'  for. 
I  checked  up  on  Fernandez  an'  found  that  he  had  been 
the  Aymes  chauffeur  an'  that  got  me  thinkin'.  The 
worst  thing  they  did  was  to  kill  Sagers  because  that  got 
me  annoyed,  but  the  damndest  silliest  thing  they  did 
was  to  be  so  keen  on  hangin'  this  thing  on  Henrietta. 
They  was  all  so  hot  to  prove  that  she  had  done  it  after 

242 


FADE       OUT 

they  had  tried  to  keep  her  outa  it  in  the  first  place  that 
I  figured  that  there  was  something  screwy  goin'  on. 

"The  second  mistake  was  when  Fernandez  told  me 
about  Paulette.  He  told  me  about  this  because  by  this 
tune  Granworth  had  got  his  face  changed  O.K.  an' 
nobody  woulda  recognised  him  as  bein'  Granworth 
Aymes.  Fernandez  thought  that  he  was  safe  in  tellin' 
me  because  he  didn't  think  that  I  would  take  the  trouble 
to  go  down  inta  Mexico  an'  take  a  look  around  for 
myself. 

"Fernandez  has  been  a  mug  too.  He  has  been  pullin' 
an  act  on  Henrietta  that  if  he  don't  marry  her  he  can 
make  things  plenty  hot  for  her.  When  I  come  on  the 
scene  he  alters  this  tale  first  because  I  smacked  him  down 
for  gettin'  fresh  with  her  an'  secondly  because  it  plays 
their  story  along  for  him  to  say  that  he  don't  want  to 
marry  Henrietta  now,  because  he  suspects  her  of  the 
counterfeitin'. 

"I  get  wise  to  this  guy.  I  get  wise  to  the  fact  that 
Fernandez  an'  Periera  an'  Burdell  are  all  playin'  along 
together.  So  I  decide  to  go  to  Mexico  an'  see  this 
Paulette,  but  before  I  go  I  have  Henrietta  down  at  the 
Police  Station  an'  I  grill  her  so  that  Fernandez  an' 
Periera  will  think  that  I  am  fallin'  for  their  stuff  an' 
that  I  am  goin'  to  New  York  to  seal  up  the  evidence 
against  her. 

"Instead  of  which  I  scram  down  to  Mexico  an'  when 
I  get  there  Paulette  starts  makin'  mistakes  as  well.  She 
rings  through  to  her  pal  Luis  Daredo  to  bump  me  off 
when  I  am  goin'  down  to  Zoni  to  see  her  supposed 
husband  Rudy  who  is  dyin'  there.  She  thinks  that  it 
will  be  a  wise  thing  to  get  me  outa  the  way. 

243 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

"Anyhow  the  job  don't  come  off.  I  was  lucky  enough 
to  get  outa  that,  but  I  am  still  not  suspectin'  the  truth. 
When  I  was  on  my  way  to  see  Rudy  Benito  at  Zoni  I 
hadn't  got  one  idea  about  this  business  that  you  coulda 
called  an  idea. 

"An'  I  got  at  the  truth  just  because  crooks  are  always 
careless  an'  because  they  always  make  one  big  mistake. 

"When  I  get  to  Madrales'  place  at  Zoni,  an'  I  go 
upstairs  an'  see  this  poor  dyin'  mug,  I  feel  sorry  for 
him,  I  don't  suspect  a  thing,  an'  he  tells  me  a  good  story 
that  matches  up  with  what  Paulette  has  told  me.  You 
bet  he  does  because  she  has  been  on  the  telephone  an' 
wised  him  up  about  me. 

"But  just  when  I  am  walkin'  outa  the  sick  room  I  see 
somethin'  damn  funny.  Stuck  behind  a  screen  is  a 
waste-paper  basket  an'  in  the  bottom  of  this  waste-paper 
basket  is  a  big  cigarette  ash  tray,  an'  in  the  bottom  of 
the  basket  where  they  have  fallen  out  are  about  sixty 
cigarette  stubs. 

"I  get  it.  Somebody  has  cleaned  up  the  cigarette 
ends  an'  made  out  to  hide  'em  before  I  was  allowed  up 
to  see  Rudy.  They  have  done  this  because  they  know 
that  I  will  be  wise  to  the  fact  that  a  guy  dyin'  of 
consumption  can't  smoke  about  sixty  cigarettes  in  one 
day. 

"At  last  I  was  wise.  Now  I  got  it  why  Paulette  tried 
to  stop  me  goin'  to  Zoni.  I  get  a  big  idea.  I  go  down- 
stairs an'  tell  Madrales  that  I  have  gotta  have  a  state- 
ment from  Benito.  I  type  it  out  an'  make  him  sign  it, 
an'  then  I  go  back  to  Paulette's  place  an'  I  compare  the 
signature  on  the  statement  with  one  of  the  real  Rudy 
Benito's  signatures  on  a  duplicate  stock  transfer  of  about 
a  year  before. 

244 


FADE      OUT 

"The  signature  was  different  an'  that  told  me  all  I 
wanted  to  know. 

"Tonight  just  before  I  come  down  here  I  went  inta 
Henrietta's  room  at  her  rancho.  I  found  an  old  letter 
from  Granworth  Aymes  an'  I  compared  the  hand- 
writin'.  The  signature  on  the  statement  signed  by 
Rudy  Benito  an'  the  Granworth  Aymes  handwritin' 
are  one  an'  the  same.  The  guy  I  saw  at  Zoni — the  guy 
supposed  to  be  dyin',  who  was  laughin'  his  head  off 
all  the  time  thinkin'  what  a  mutt  I  was,  wasn't  Rudy 
Benito — it  was  Granworth  Aymes!" 

I  look  over  at  Paulette.  She  is  lyin'  back  starin*  at 
the  ceilin'.  She  don't  look  so  good  to  me.  She  looks 
like  she  is  due  for  a  fit. 

I  pick  up  one  of  the  wires  that  Metts  handed  to  me. 

"Just  so's  it'll  help  you  when  you  see  your  lawyer 
in  the  mornin',  Paulette,"  I  tell  her,  "you  might  like 
to  hear  about  this  wire.  It  is  from  New  York  this 
mornin'.  Followin'  an  instruction  that  I  sent  through 
from  Yuma  while  you  was  gettin'  your  hair  done,  Lang- 
don  Burdell  an'  Marie  Dubuinet  was  arrested  early  this 
mornin'.  They  grilled  Burdell  an'  he  squealed  the  whole 
works.  They  gotta  full  confession  from  him,  an'  he  has 
said  enough  about  you  to  fix  you  plenty." 

Paulette  pulls  herself  together.  She  sits  up  an'  she 
flashes  a  little  smile  across  at  me. 

"You  win,"  she  croaks.  "I  was  the  mug — I  thought 
you  was  just  another  cop.  How  could  I  know  you  had 
brains?" 

I  look  over  at  Henrietta.  She  is  sittin'  lookin'  scared. 
Her  lips  are  tremblin'. 

"Lemmy,"  she  says.  "Then  Granworth  isn't  dead. 
He's  alive — in  Mexico.  I  ..." 

245 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

"Justa  minute,  honey,"  I  tell  her.  "I'm  afraid  I 
gotta  bit  of  a  shock  for  you." 

I  pick  up  the  second  wire  an'  I  read  it  to  'em. 

It  is  from  the  Mexican  Police  at  Mexicali,  an'  it  says: 

"Following  request  from  Special  Agent  L.  H.  Caution 
of  the  U.  S.  Federal  Bureau  of  Investigation,  confirmed 
by  the  Federal  Consular  Officer  at  Yuma  yesterday,  for 
the  arrest  of  U.  S.  Citizen  Granu>orth  Aymes,  otherwise 
known  as  Rudy  Benito,  and  the  Spanish  Citizen  Doctor 
Eugenio  Madrales,  both  of  2,oni,  Police  Lieutenant  Juan 
Marsiesta  sent  with  a  Kurales  Patrol  to  effect  the  arrest 
reports  that  both  men  were  shot  dead  whilst  resisting 
arrest" 

Henrietta  starts  cryin'.  She  puts  her  head  in  her 
hands  an'  she  sobs  like  her  heart  would  break. 

"Take  it  easy,  lady,"  I  tell  her.  "I  reckon  that  the 
way  this  job  has  finished  is  the  best  for  everybody. 
Maloney,  I  reckon  you'd  better  put  Henrietta  in  your 
car  an'  take  her  along  back  home." 

Henrietta  gets  up.  I'm  tellin'  you  that  with  her 
eyes  fulla  tears  she  looks  a  real  honey.  There  is  a  sorta 
light  in  her  eyes  when  she  looks  at  me  that  is  aces.  I 
reckon  that  if  I  was  a  guy  who  was  given  to  gettin' 
sentimental  about  anything  I  shoulda  been  sorta  pleased 
with  the  way  she  was  lookin'. 

"I  think  you're  swell,  Lemmy,"  she  says. 

She  goes  out  with  Maloney. 

I  go  over  to  Metts'  desk  an'  I  open  the  drawer  an'  I 
take  out  a  pair  of  steel  bracelets.  Then  I  go  over  to 
Paulette  an'  I  slip  'em  on  her.  She  don't  like  it  very 
much. 

"You  better  get  used  to  the  feel  of  'em,  Paulette,"  I 
246 


FADE      OUT 

tell  her.  "An'  if  you  get  away  with  twenty  years  I 
guess  you'll  be  lucky,  an'  that  ain't  even  takin'  inta 
consideration  them  shots  you  had  at  me." 

She  gets  up  outa  the  chair. 

"I  wish  I'd  got  you,"  she  says.  "I  guess  I  woulda 
saved  myself  a  lotta  trouble  if  I  had.  Still  that's  the  way 
life  goes.  .  .  ." 

She  takes  a  sudden  step  back  an'  then  she  takes  a  big 
swipe  at  my  face  with  her  wrists.  I  bet  if  them  hand- 
cuffs had  hit  me  my  face  woulda  been  more  like  the 
Rock  of  Gibraltar  than  it  is. 

I  do  a  quick  side  step.  She  misses  me.  I  get  hold  of 
her  an'  I  am  just  goin'  to  give  her  a  good  smackin'  on 
the  place  intended  for  it,  when  I  stop  myself. 

"No,"  I  tell  her.  "I  ain't  goin'  to  smack  you  any, 
it  would  be  like  smackin'  a  tarantula.  Paulette  Benito," 
I  go  on,  "I'm  arrestin'  you  on  a  charge  of  bein'  accessory 
to  first-degree  murder  of  your  husband  Rudy  Benito. 
I'm  arrestin'  you  on  a  charge  of  being  accessory  to  the 
makin'  an'  issuin'  of  counterfeit  bills,  bonds  and  stocks 
certificates.  I'm  holdin'  you  here  at  Palm  Springs  pend- 
ing extradition  an'  trial  by  a  Federal  Court. 

"An'  also,"  I  go  on,  "speakin'  personally  I'd  like  to 
tellya  that  I'm  damn  glad  that  I  ain't  your  husband.  It 
would  be  like  sleepin'  with  a  rattlesnake." 

She  looks  at  me  an'  her  eyes  are  glitterin'. 

"I  wish  you  were  my  husband,"  she  says,  "just  for 
one  week.  If  you  were  my  husband,  I'd  give  you  rat 
poison!" 

"Swell,"  I  tell  her,  "an'  if  I  was  your  husband  I'd 
take  it  an'  be  glad.  Take  her  away  boys.  Lock  her  up, 
an'  if  she  wants  to  she  can  start  a  civil  war  in  the  can." 

The  cops  who  are  waitin'  outside  grab  her  an'  take 
247 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

her  off.  Metts  brings  out  a  bottle  of  bourbon  an'  we 
have  a  stiff  one  each.  I  am  feelin'  like  I  could  go  to 
bed  an'  sleep  for  twenty-four  years  without  even  turnin' 
over. 

Metts  tells  me  that  he  has  sent  a  wagon  out  to  the 
Hacienda  Altmira  with  a  casket  an*  a  coupla  cops  with 
spades  to  dig  up  what  is  left  of  Sagers  an'  fix  him 
properly.  I  figure  that  these  boys  will  be  waitin'  for 
me  to  go  out  an*  show  'em  where  Fernandez  buried  the 
kid,  so  I  scram  downstairs  an'  get  in  the  car  an*  drive 
out  to  the  Hacienda. 

The  dawn  is  breakin'.  The  desert  country  looks 
pretty  swell  at  this  time. 

I  would  like  to  stick  around  here  at  this  place  just 
doin'  nothin'  an*  doin'  it  all  the  time,  instead  of  rushin' 
about  the  country  pullin'  in  cheap  crooks  an*  counter- 
feiters an*  jumpin'  around  duckin'  shots  from  dames 
like  Paulette. 

I  leave  the  car  at  the  front  of  the  Hacienda,  an'  walk 
around  the  back.  Two  State  cops  with  a  police  wagon 
an'  shovels  are  hangin*  around.  They  have  got  a  casket 
in  the  wagon.  I  show  'em  where  Sagers  is  buried  an' 
they  start  diggin'. 

Then  I  remember  somethin'.  I  light  a  cigarette  an' 
go  back  to  the  car  an'  drive  out  towards  Henrietta's 
little  rancho.  When  I  get  there  I  see  Maloney  just  gettin* 
inta  his  car. 

"Say,  am  I  the  big  mug,  or  am  I?"  I  tell  him.  "With 
all  this  depression  that's  been  flying  around,  I  forgot 
the  only  bitta  good  news  I  got  for  Henrietta.  An'  any- 
way where  was  you  goin'?" 

"I'm  scrammin,"  he  says.  "You  see,  now  that  Hen- 
rietta's in  the  clear  I  guess  I  don't  haveta  stick  around 

248 


FADE      OUT 

any  more.  I  sorta  wanted  to  give  her  a  hand  that's  all, 
an'  I  guess  I  sorta  used  the  situation  inta  rushin'  her 
inta  a  marriage  with  me.  But  she  ain't  that  way  about 
it.  She  says  she'd  like  to  think  of  me  as  a  brother — you 
know  the  stuff." 

He  grins. 

"Anyhow,"  he  says,  "I  got  a  girl  in  Florida.  I  guess 
I'll  go  along  an'  say  how  are  you  to  her." 

"Atta  boy,"  I  tell  him. 

I  watch  his  dust  as  he  goes  down  the  road.  Then  I 
walk  up  to  the  door  an'  I  bang  on  it.  After  a  bit 
Henrietta  comes  along.  She  has  changed  her  outfit  an' 
she  is  wearin'  a  white  crepe-de-chine  dress  an'  white 
shoes.  That  dame  sure  can  look  a  honey. 

"Say,  Henrietta,"  I  tell  her.  "I  gotta  bit  of  news  for 
you  an'  I  was  a  mug  not  to  have  thoughta  it  before. 

"Granworth  was  insured  for  two  hundred  thousand, 
wasn't  he?  Well  the  policy  covered  everything  except 
suicide,  an'  he  never  committed  suicide.  He  was  shot 
resistin'  arrest  yesterday  by  Rurales. 

"O.K.  Well  the  Corporation  will  pay.  That  means  that 
you  get  plenty  dough  so  I  reckon  you  needn't  worry 
your  head  about  anything.  I'll  have  a  word  with  Metts 
on  my  way  back  so's  if  you  want  any  dough  quick  the 
bank'll  let  you  have  some.  I'll  wire  the  New  York 
Police  to  send  the  policy  along,  so's  the  bank  can  hold 
it  against  any  dough  you  want." 

She  looks  at  me  an'  her  eyes  are  sorta  starry. 

"That's  fine,  Lemmy,"  she  says.  "But  won't  you 
come  in.  There's  one  or  two  things  I  want  to  say  to 
you.  Besides  there's  breakfast  coming." 

I  look  at  her. 

"Listen  lady,"  I  tell  her.  "Maybe  you  ain't  heard 
249 


DAMES      DON     T      CARE 

about  me.  I  am  one  tough  guy.  I  am  not  the  sorta 
guy  who  you  can  trust  around  the  place  havin'  break- 
fast with  a  swell  dame  like  you.  Especially  if  you  are 
good  at  makin'  waffles.  When  I  eat  waffles  I  just  get 
goin'  an'  they  tell  me  that  then  I  get  to  be  the  sorta  guy 
that  dames  oughta  be  warned  against." 

She  leans  up  against  the  door  post. 

"I  was  goin'  to  give  you  fried  chicken,"  she  says, 
"but  after  that  I  think  I  won't.  I've  got  a  better  idea." 

"Such  as?"  I  ask  her. 

"Such  as  waffles,"  she  says. 

I  look  at  her  again  an'  I  start  thinkin*  of  my  old 
mother.  Ma  Caution  usta  tell  me  when  I  was  a  kid  that 
I  always  put  food  before  everything. 

An'  for  once  Ma  Caution  was  wrong. 


MAYFAIR  STATIONERS 

7855  MELROSE  AVENUE 
HOLLYWOOD.  CALIF. 


250 


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